


never enough

by darkcosmo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bitter Exes, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Spoilers, bi Hilda, bittersweet end, everyone possible joins the BE, everyones gay, lesbian Edelgard, no supports? its free real estate babey!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 71,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22946242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcosmo/pseuds/darkcosmo
Summary: “My teacher,” Edelgard presses. “Whatever she said, I can handle, I assure you.”Professor Byleth clears their throat, but the discomfort is still clear on their face. “Hilda said the only way she would join the Black Eagle’s house… is in a world in which you were not in it.”or:Edelgard's uncle drags her to spend winter in Goneril territory to attend Shambhala business right before she is to start her year at Garreg Mach, thus meeting one Hilda Valentine Goneril. Shenanigans ensue.[CF route] A look into their turbulent relationship Pre-Academy, Academy days, and Post-Academy.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 91
Kudos: 467





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> lightly inspired by [ujugn](https://twitter.com/ujugn/status/1224728067270152193?s=20) Hildagard art and the popular hc that they dated and that that's why Hilda won't join the Black Eagles CF route

**1**

Hilda felt like she would never fully wrap her head around on _why_ her knuckleheaded older brother agreed to let Lord Arundel and his kin stay for the winter at the Goneril Manor.

Said lord had been _very_ insistent on this, too. Like, she’d snooped around her brother’s back and forth correspondence with the Empire noble, and he’d been so annoyingly vague even in writing. The man hadn’t even properly explained anything about his business at their home, or if the Emperor himself was aware of any of it… _weeell_ not that it mattered; as far as she knew, Ionius IX had pretty much been stripped of his power after an internal coup or something or other Hilda really wasn’t supposed to know.

It wasn’t her fault Holst kept state secrets laying around for concerned little sisters to find! The only thing the shady Lord Arundel had explained in his letters was that it was of the _utmost importance_ and other big words like _imperative_ and _generous compensation_ underlined and all… so, good ol’ Holst had agreed without a second thought.

 _They’re still recovering from the Insurrection of the Seven. It doesn’t hurt to have the Empire indebted to us, huh?_ Holst had reasoned.

She hadn’t missed the way his eyes had glimmered at the prospect of the very wealthy Empire owing some sort of compensation to the guardians of Fódlan’s Locket. He was probably already daydreaming of how he’d use the Empire’s vast amounts of gold to add new deadly weapons to their ancestral fortress to keep Almyra at bay for another hundred years.

In his eyes, all these people wanted in return was to stay for a couple of months in their territory… Hilda thought it too good to be true, but Holst’s mind was made up, and there was no changing the mind of the Duke of Goneril once he was set on it.

Hilda sighed. Said Duke of Goneril had made her get up at the crack of dawn in the dead of winter, in the so very cold Guardian Moon to await the arrival of their guests, and Hilda was sure she’d already gone through the five stages of grief in the span of one hour. Anger, denial, depression… she was about to descend into bargaining. No way would she jump into acceptance without nagging her brother some more- after all, there was no sign of them! Whatsoever!

The welcoming committee (a.k.a the Goneril siblings and a handful of soldiers) had been standing around like idiots at the hill that connected the main road of the town of Goneril to their manor for almost an hour with no sign of the Empire party anywhere.

Her father had argued his old bones could not handle the cold especially that early in the morning, and thus, he had been graciously excused from being dragged out of bed by his own son. When Hilda had tried to argue the same, Holst said it was ridiculous for her to claim _old bones_ at the tender age of almost eighteen years old. Very unfair!

“But why can’t they stay with, say, House Ordelia?” Hilda whined for what must have been the umpteenth time in a few minutes. “It’s closer to the Empire, after all! Plus, I bet they’re still mad at them after that whole fiasco with the Hyrm rebellion. Why not _go there_ instead?”

Holst shrugged one massive shoulder in response before saying, “Their visiting is not a punishment, Hilda.” His eyes, the same shade as her own, narrowed as the sun rose over the little hill momentarily blinding him, “Lord Arundel specifically asked this of us, not House Ordelia. Said our location was useful for his plans or whatever…”

Hilda made a face. “What _plans_? He doesn’t tell the likes of _you_ anything.”

“Oh, he has business near our territory or something… ’round the Hrym mountains I think he said? Don’t really know, don’t really care to ask. He’s gonna be out most days. It’s a good opportunity for our House.”

“To line your pockets with coin!”

Her brother’s grin was maybe brighter than the rising sun. “Exactly!”

Hilda had to crane her neck up to glare at him some more. Not that it had any sort of effect. Holst was a mountain of a man, with biceps the size of her head and a massive chest to boot, but a gentle giant at that. She didn’t know a more caring guy. Not that she’d ever tell him that, of course.

Said guy was in a fantastic mood at this inhumane hour, too. And how could he not? Apparently, their weirdo of a guest wasn’t even going to hang around them as much as Hilda had feared.

She was about to finally succumb to the _acceptance_ part of her early morning tantrum before a realization made her brother smile even wider, “Cheer up, sis! His letter from last night stated that he was bringing his niece with him… the Imperial princess, here at the edge of the world! Can you imagine? Perhaps you can have yourself a little friend!”

 _Letter from last night_? So, from a few hours ago? Hilda hadn’t had time to intercept _that_ message.

Hilda felt like someone had smacked her between the eyes. “ _What_?”

“Yeah! Her name’s Edelgard. In fact, she’ll be going to Garreg Mach at the same time that you are in a few months’ time. You can chill with someone your own age for a change!” Her brother’s good mood dented for a second when he added, “You know I don’t like that older crowd you’ve been hanging around with… _especially_ those boys you make heart eyes at all the freakin’ time–”

“It’s not like that!” Hilda felt her face heat up despite the biting cold of the wind. “They’re just helping me occasionally with my chores, that’s all!”

Fine – maybe she’d smooched said boys once or twice or thrice when her words alone weren’t enough to get them to help her out, but she was a delicate flower, okay? Why her brother insisted on giving her grueling manual tasks around their very own home when perfectly good help was around was beyond her. 

She figured one kiss that did not stir anything in her short of a business transaction in exchange for them lugging around thirty heavy crates was more than a fair deal. Plus, in those cases, she never let it evolve into anything more.

“ _Chores_ ,” Holst ran his fingers over his tousled pink hair. Standing around like idiots on the hilltop was starting to finally mess with his annoying good looks. “That what we’re calling it these days?”

Before Hilda could do something totally justified, such as breaking her brother’s knees, one of their guards called out, “Holst! Down the main road. They’re here!”

The current Duke of Goneril allowed no formalities when it came to his soldiers addressing him, all of them now known as “ _Holst’s Chosen_ ”. Her father wouldn’t have allowed such casualness back when he was head of the family, but he wasn’t in charge anymore. He’d stepped down in favor of his heir when he couldn’t lift an axe anymore to defend them from the Almyrans.

Holst considered everyone in his personal guard to be his brothers-in-arms, all of whom he’d met and befriended at the Officer’s Academy when all of them attended the Golden Deer House back in the day. Her brother had made house leader. It made all the looming expectations all the more crushing – Hilda _knew_ the _House Leader_ role had already been decided to go to one Claude von Riegan, Duke Riegan’s mystery grandson this upcoming semester just as soon as this unforgiving winter was over.

She hadn’t even properly enrolled at the Garreg Mach Monastery and she was already falling short to her outstanding sibling. In three months, when the Great Tree Moon finally came around, it would be time for her inadequate self to attend her famed brother’s alma mater.

Sure enough, a small convoy of people was fast approaching their little improvised welcoming party. Hilda straightened from her previously slouching position. Riding at the front in a massive black steed, Hilda figured the man atop could be none other than Volkhard von Arundel, her brother’s creepy pen pal. He was maybe in his mid-forties, with long dark hair tied back and with his facial hair in a neat style she knew to be popular in the Empire.

And right behind him holding the reins of a sandy-colored horse between white gloves, Edelgard.

At least, she _assumed_ it had to be Edelgard.

Oh.

She was pretty.

Hilda tried her hardest not to stare – and failed miserably. The Adrestian princess had a shock of white hair very unlike her uncle’s. In fact, she looked nothing like the guy – oh, except the eyes. The closer they got; Hilda could see them – they were the same shade of lavender.

It was so odd, she decided she just had to comment on it, “Why’s her hair–”

The air left her lungs when her brother nudged her ribs and hissed for her ears only “Don’t be rude–” and in the same breath, but significantly louder, “Hello, Lord Arundel! Lady Edelgard! Welcome to the Duchy of Goneril! I trust you had a good trip?”

Five people in total. Uncle and niece, both dressed in fancy black travel clothes lined with red _and_ wearing the same apathetic expression – plus two regular-looking guards and one weird-looking mage with a hooked mask on their face, resembling some sort of bird’s beak? What was _up_ with the Empire’s fashion sense? 

Hilda took a step back to sort of hide behind her brother. She definitely did not like that character’s overall _theme_ they had going for them, gave her the heebie-jeebies.

“It was adequate,” was the older man’s curt reply. No apology for being late or for scheduling their arrival at the asscrack of dawn, Hilda noted. His tone reflected his overall disposition well enough- he looked bored and inconvenienced, like this wasn’t _The_ Duke of Goneril himself standing in the freezing cold welcoming him to the Leicester Alliance.

Undeterred as ever, Holst barreled on, “Good, good! Oh! May I introduce you-” he stepped aside and guided Hilda to stand before him by the small of her back, “- to my little sister, Hilda!”

Their guests were not impressed whatsoever.

“Um. Yeah. Hi.”

Thankfully, mercifully, before she could melt into a puddle of embarrassment at the sheer awkwardness of it all, Edelgard acknowledged her when Volkhard failed to even blink “Nice to meet you. My name is Edelgard.”

The expression on her face didn’t change from polite interest, and her voice was the textbook definition of neutral. Her strange white hair was loose- the cold breeze blew it into her mouth after she spoke, causing her to swat it aside in annoyance.

“I know.” Hilda said. Edelgard canted her head to the side as if amused. She quickly added, “I- I mean, Holst mentioned it. _You_. That you were going to the Officer’s Academy next term too?”

“I am indeed. I am to lead the Black Eagle’s House.” The younger girl shifted her weight on her horse, puffing out a breath everyone could see in the cold, “You will be joining the Golden Deer, I presume?”

Holst clapped her hard on the back, “Absolutely, she is! _Fear the Deer_! We’re all very proud!”

“ _Honestly, Holst_ –”

Lord Arundel’s horse whinnied then, and reared its big dark head– sheesh, could a horse even be impatient? Or had his master poked it on purpose as his own patience ran thin at small pleasantries? “Ah, I apologize, my steed must be tired from the long trip. We rode all night, after all. Perhaps General Goneril would be so kind as to lead us to our quarters?”

 _Nothing_ inflated his brother’s ego more than being called his military rank, which no one really ever did because of his self-imposed casualness rule. “Sure! No problem!” he pointed down the hill with his chin, “This way.”

* * *

The trek down the hill perfectly matched their initial reunion– awkward and _cold_ both literally and figuratively. Outside of that brief introduction, the Imperial princess seemed just as detached and uninterested in them as her uncle had been.

What otherwise would have been the most unconformable silence of Hilda’s short life was thankfully filled by Holst’s unending chatter, consisting of fascinating topics such as that while this weather was somewhat cold surely it was nothing compared to the frigidness of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus at this time of year.

Hilda tried to sneak another glance at Edelgard, but their pace did not allow for a good look- after all, their guests were trotting down the hill comfortably on horseback while the Alliance crew were keeping up as best they could on their own frozen feet.

After forever, they reached their objective- the Goneril estate, obviously a shack in their eyes compared to what they were probably used to in the Imperial capital of Enbarr, but for Alliance standards it was pretty damn impressive.

The domain of House Goneril was two stories high and sprawling as far as the eye could see, a comfortable and sturdy manor nestled between hills with a lush forest bordering the back of the property. Beyond said forest lay Fódlan’s Locket a.k.a her brother’s eternal charge to keep the Almyrans out of their country.

Shortly after arriving a flurry of movement followed- horses were taken away and luggage was hauled out of sight and into guest’s chambers upstairs… all but one batch. While the Adrestians admired the massive foyer of their ancestral home and shrugged their travel cloaks off, Hilda took Holst to the side.

“Hey- why are they taking that stuff into _my room_?” Hilda asked.

Holst still had that fake little smile from earlier plastered on his face, “Ah, it was so sudden, I forgot to mention… Edelgard will be staying in your room.”

“ _My_ room?” Hilda squeaked. “As in _with me_?”

“Hm. Not exactly- see, with some of the renovations we’ve been doing around the old place, we’re a little short on guest accommodations at the moment,” her brother scratched at the sparse amount of stubble he currently had on his face. “I don’t want the Imperial princess sleeping in one of the makeshift ones we currently have and your room’s the biggest, sooo… consider it a sacrifice for the greater good of the lining of gold of this House’s pockets.”

She didn’t want to cause a scene this early into what would be her reality for the next few months, but she figured being deported from her own room with little to no warning warranted a _little_ scene. “Then where am _I_ supposed to sleep?”

Before she could either throttle her brother in the spot or he could muster a reply, Lord Arundel turned to them and put a stop to their bickering very effectively. “Lord Goneril, I thank you for your hospitality and for arranging all of this. It will be sufficient in regards to my business in the area.”

Holst puffed out his chest, “You are very welcome.”

It took all of Hilda’s willpower not to roll her eyes at the clownery of it all, but in the end, she managed to keep what she hoped was a neutral expression to rival that of Edelgard.

Lord Arundel didn’t miss a beat, “Alas we are quite tired from the long ride. Perhaps we can get some rest and meet later?”

“Oh absolutely. We can do breakfast in a couple of hours and then I can show you around?” Holst said. At Volkhard’s affirmative nod, her brother once again encouraged his sister to take a step forward with his meaty paws at her back, “Help Edelgard get settled, Hilda.”

* * *

Showing the other girl into her room only confirmed Hilda’s suspicion that the Adrestian noble was not impressed by their humble abode in the slightest. Emphasis on _humble_.

“Sooo this is it. My room- I mean, _your_ room now.” Hilda paced around the middle of it, gesturing at the high-vaulted ceiling and the arched windows.

To the relief of the youngest Goneril, someone had taken the time to actually make the bed after her rude awakening and also tidy up a bit around the place- she wondered if Edelgard would have commented on it, had the bed been unmade. She looked so uptight and serious- Hilda wouldn’t put it past her.

Before parting, her brother had been so kind as to inform her that she’d be sleeping in the small room adjacent- where her nanny would sleep in back in the day. Really, it was more of a repurposed closet that fit only the one bed and a tiny window. 

Said room only existed because, after Lady Goneril’s early passing when Hilda was but a wee baby, they needed someone to sort of move in with the child she left behind and the Goneril men could not think of any better alternative apparently.

Hilda had been thinking of finally turning that space into what it originally was -a closet!-, and a much needed one at that, but Holst just had to go and play _Hotel_.

At the lack of response from the princess, Hilda continued, “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

Edelgard eyed the door that connected both rooms with a funny look, “How thin are these walls?”

 _How thin_ -? _What kind of question_ -?

“Uh… I don’t- I don’t actually really know. I could ask, if you need?” Hilda was at a bit of a loss. Why were these people so _strange_?

She figured the walls were pretty solid since no snooping older brothers nor other family members had ever walked in on Hilda engaging in certain fun and pleasurable activities with the people she casually dated, but she wasn’t sure and she wasn’t keen to lie to the future Emperor.

After Edelgard shifted uncomfortably in her silence, Hilda finally asked “Why? Is there something you don’t wanna, um, listen to?”

The first trace of any real emotion crossed the princess’ face since her arrival. Not that Hilda had been anxious for it. She hadn’t. But it wasn’t a positive one- Edelgard seemed to be internally debating whether or not to voice her concerns judging from the suddenly tortured expression on her face.

Finally, she must have decided that the pros of telling her outweighed the cons, but she averted her eyes and refused to meet Hilda’s gaze. “Well. I have a bit… I sometimes have some night terrors. Nothing to worry about, rest assured. I do not want you to trouble yourself on my account.”

Edelgard’s words were measured, careful even, as she continued, “So please, do not come barging in at night if you are awakened by such episodes… also, I ask that you always knock before entering.”

If Hilda hadn’t been trying her absolute hardest to be the picture of the perfect host, she would have lost it. The heir of Adrestia had been here a whooping total of ten minutes and already she was telling her that she could not come and go from her very own room as she pleased. Also, night terrors? What did someone that carried themselves like that and bore that air of superiority even have to fear?

Regardless of how she really felt, Hilda found herself nodding. “Sure, sure, no problem.”

“Thank you. Now, as my uncle said…” lavender eyes finally met her own, “I really am quite tired from the trip.”

And so, Hilda was kicked out of her room not even before 7AM on a Sunday. Standing right by her door, like a dog left outside, Hilda felt something like lead pooling in her stomach.

She definitely wasn’t at the stage of _acceptance_ of her new situation quite yet.

* * *

Hilda quickly realized… She and Edelgard had clashing personalities.

Edelgard was, in all honesty, a little nerd. The younger girl was already hard at work reading up all sorts of things and training for their upcoming admission to Garreg Mach. The princess had probably devoured her father’s entire library by the end of the first week.

Hilda, on the other hand, had not touched an axe in months, let alone a book. Despite her brother’s incessant encouragement, Hilda avoided anything remotely work-related like it was the plague.

The so-called night terrors had not yet been an issue because Edelgard didn’t seem to sleep, didn’t seem to pause for anyone or anything. Hilda hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since that fateful Sunday morning. The silver of light between their shared door was never off – the sounds of either pacing or of a pen scratching on parchment never seemed to stop, which drove Hilda a little crazy to be honest.

Another thing she realized: Hilda, too, seemed to be driving her esteemed guest a little crazy. It had started subtly, with Edelgard making several offhand comments about the fruits of one’s labor and the benefits that working hard produced in the long run – and now, to flat out criticizing her for lazing about or making snide remarks on how many naps she partook in the day.

They really could not escape each other’s company. All the lesser-known nobles and distant family Hilda usually hung around lived at the other side of the hill- no one was willing to make the long trip in the cold. The manor was amazing, but it was quite secluded.

True to his word, Edelgard’s uncle went on daily trips to goddess-knows-where, leaving super early and getting back just as late. What he was up to, her roommate did not care to share. Maybe she didn’t know. All Hilda knew was that Edelgard had not come on this trip willingly- it was clear as day that her uncle had forced her to be here.

In fact, -and this gave Hilda a slight comfort- she seemed to hate her uncle the most. Her animosity towards Lord Arundel was thinly veiled, and it was a good way to measure that he was definitely above Hilda on Edelgard’s list of people she could not stand.

The youngest Goneril had tried to befriend Edelgard a couple of times- and any and all attempts had been swiftly rebuffered. She was just… not interested. She spent all day locked up in Hilda’s room writing letters, studying, or training. She did not share _any_ of Hilda’s interests- not makeup, or accessories, procrastinating, crafts, boys, girls—she wondered if the Imperial princess truly was that boring.

Their initial meeting had been completely civil and bordering on good. Hilda really could not pinpoint the exact moment where the small rivalry started to blossom.

She’d been sooo accommodating and kind from the start!– but the gap between their personalities and priorities was just too abysmal. Jeez, they could not even stop bickering over simple things such as picking the flavor for the brewing tea at nighttime. Bergamot tasted like dirty socks and that’s the hill Hilda was willing to die on.

Also, there was the unspoken tension between them.

Hilda would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy a little tension sprinkled in her interpersonal relationships with others. It kept things interesting. Really, the first girl she ever hooked up with had been one she’d initially got into a fistfight with. 

However, she wasn’t sure if the underlying tension with Edelgard was of that nature- or if it was simply what she could only describe as ‘ _Hate at first sight_.’

Despite all of that, Hilda could not help herself but be _drawn_ to Edelgard, even if it was to constantly antagonize her— she wondered if it normal to seek out another person’s company even if you didn’t particularly enjoy their personality and hated a lot of their core character traits??

All of the above did not deter her brother from trying to force them together. 

Holst was dead-set on Hilda befriending the future Emperor- if anything to keep her away from her numerous _helpers_ that sorted out all of her chores for her on the regular. He’d found out Edelgard was immune to her charm- Hilda had tried to manipulate Edelgard into dusting the library, and needless to say it had not gone well for her.

Case in point, Holst had asked his sister to gather some wood to chop into firewood for the house right in the same pebbled courtyard in which Edelgard had been furiously training against a straw dummy for hours now. Like her, the Imperial princess favored the axe.

The weather was gradually improving up to the point that it was tolerable to be outside at least until the sun went down.

Edelgard had dressed accordingly; she wore a crisp white dress shirt and a red vest, with black slacks and ankle boots. Hilda would have complimented her choice had she not been pissed at the other girl for keeping her awake with her chronic sleep problems.

So far, Edelgard had hacked away at approximately five training dummies – while Hilda had zero stacks of wood to her name. Which was fine. She’d eventually get around to it- granted that she didn’t find someone else to do it for her first! Unfortunately for her, the only other human person around was none other than her irritable roommate.

“You know, no matter how intently you stare, your eyes alone will not turn that pile of wood into what your brother asked of you,” Edelgard broke the silence that had slowly been building.

She was breathing heavily from all her training – she got winded quite easily, Hilda had noticed. The future Emperor was stronger than the average man, but despite her best efforts at hiding it, she had physical limitations that made no sense for someone as young and in shape as she.

Hilda stretched herself out from her spot on a bench off to the side, offering a haughty smile to the princess, “And no matter how intently you push your hair back, it’ll go right back to sticking to your face unless you tie it back.”

Edelgard’s light eyes narrowed, almost hidden behind a curtain of white- from the lack of warm water most mornings, she knew the other girl took extremely good care of her hair, but when it came to styling it... not so much.

She stubbornly did not push it away after Hilda’s kind observation, as if not doing it somehow meant it wasn’t true – which, objectively speaking, _it was_.

For her part, her twin tails were perfectly tied back to allow her to, you know, see and stuff. Having her eyes freed up was very important. One thing Hilda didn’t mess around with was her crafting. How she loooved to fiddle with all sorts of trinkets and make her very own accessories.

Which reminded her…

She sighed before pulling some spare material out of her pocket- instead of splitting wood, she’d figured she could spend that time braiding together a cute little bracelet, but obviously said material had a higher calling now.

“Here.” Hilda pulled herself up to her full height- which, sadly, was not that much. To her eternal annoyance, Edelgard was taller than her if only by a smidge.

She held out both pieces of ribbon between them and approached Edelgard’s rigid stance as if holding a peace offering, “They match your eyes. It’s gonna look cute _and_ be practical.”

Surprisingly, Edelgard allows her to tie her layered hair back with both pieces of the purple ribbon. “You have really nice hair,” she chatters to fill the tense silence that was slowly building. “It’s really soft, too!”

Edelgard murmurs a thank-you just as Hilda is done. The younger girl turns around- for once, she looked self-conscious. Although still mostly loose, the ribbons kept her hair from going all over the place unlike before and also framed her face in a lovely way Hilda did not care to think too hard about.

The Adrestian’s hand, ever gloved even while training, reaches behind her head and smiles for perhaps the first time in weeks. Or was it the first time _ever_? “I used to wear my hair not unlike yours when I was younger. It’s unfortunate that I stopped. This feels nice. Thanks!”

The intrusive thought of a baby Edelgard in pigtails was almost too cute to handle, so she opts for a safe “Don’t mention it.”

The soft moment passed just as quickly as it had started, and Edelgard was back into business mode before Hilda could even blink, “Seriously, though, you should get around to splitting that firewood. It will get dark in no time, and we best be inside soon.”

The way she worded it, it let Hilda know that her inactivity was in some way wasting the future Emperor’s time – that this now wasn’t only _her_ chore, but _theirs_. Way to guilt someone into actually doing their work!

But Hilda would not cave that easily.

“Aw, but it looks so _hard_!” She eyed the daunting pile of wood with a pout. “ _You_ , on the other hand – I’ve seen you rock that axe, Edelgard! You’ve been at it for hours now. Surely you could get it done in half the amount of time it would take me? I’ve got noodly little arms!”

Edelgard was entirely unaffected, similar to how Holst was immune to her charm after years and years. It had taken him her entire life to achieve that – apparently the Adrestian noble was just born with it. “Just do it, Hilda.”

Usually she would have pulled out the heavy artillery- a.k.a, crying- but Edelgard had been right about one thing and one thing only, in that it was getting late and most importantly, cold. Chopping wood in and in itself probably counted as cruel and unusual punishment, but doing it with _cold hands_? Could not be her.

“Fine.” She bit out. She hated the satisfied smile that spread across Edelgard’s face. Maybe she should go back to not smiling, ever. Yes, that would be ideal.

With a huff, she carried the pile of raw wood over to the very center. They traded places, with Hilda standing in the middle of the courtyard and Edelgard taking her previous spot on the stone bench.

“Do you need this?” Edelgard held out the wooden training axe she’d worked with all evening. It definitely got the job done after several thwacks, but Hilda was not about to stay out here all night.

“Nah,” she went off to the side and after some rummaging through the gardener’s tools she picked up a nice and iron one. “This one will be quicker for sure.”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “That one’s a lot heavier, Hilda. You need a certain level of strength to wield it. I don’t think even _I_ am ready for the upgrade.”

It was Hilda’s turn to smile wolfishly. She rolled up her sleeves, nice and slow – revealing the true buff of her arms. Of course, she usually hid it because 1) it wasn’t a very delicate look, and 2) if her little helpers saw them, they would be the ones asking her to lift thirty heavy crates, and Hilda was not about to let that happen. But showing off just to see that look on Miss-Stoic’s face? Totally worth it.

She did not look like it most days, _obviously_ , but she was her father’s daughter after all. All descendants of Goneril were pretty much hardwired and built with the same raw prowess and strength. She just decided to use all of that energy and power very selectively. It was her choice.

Before Edelgard could properly process the new revelation, Hilda had done a fine job of chopping up that immense pile of wood in what was probably record time even for her. She lamented the few splinters and wood chips that had made their way to her skirt, but what can ya do?

More pleased than perhaps she should be, she rested the axe over her shoulder as casually as she could and turned to face her Imperial Highness. Sure enough, Edelgard looked like she could not believe her eyes – and interestingly enough, her face was now the same color as her vest… bright red.

“ _Noodly arms_? You didn’t even break a sweat,” was what Edelgard finally decided to go with. Her eyes flickered back and forth between Hilda’s face and toned arms. Heeding a very Holst-like impulse, she puffed out her chest a little.

Hilda winked. “I think you’ll find I have _very_ good stamina.”

Naturally, her innuendo did not go over well with her uptight guest, who set her jaw in a way that looked almost painful. She pointed at Hilda, accusingly “I don’t understand you. You pretend to be some helpless little creature, when you are perfectly capable of doing anything you set your mind to. It is a disservice to those who are _truly_ helpless and _truly_ need help.”

In response, Hilda twirled the hilt of the axe and fixed the other girl with a glare, “Oh, save that holier-than-thou for the priests, princess. You are not the first to call me out and sadly I don’t think you’ll be the last. Trust me, it’s better that people don’t rely on me and don’t expect anything of me, that way, I can’t let them down… heh, I much prefer it that way actually!”

Edelgard fixed her lavender gaze on her, incredulous. “I refuse to believe you would be so selfish.”

“Hmm. May I introduce her Imperial Highness to a concept perhaps she’s unfamiliar with?” Hilda rested both hands on the axe as it lay across her shoulders, sharp end down. A wrong move and she could get a nasty cut. She made sure to lock eyes with the princess to get her message across. “Mind. Your. Business.”

Edelgard did not speak to her for a couple of days after the courtyard incident.

She did, however, wear her hair the way Hilda had shown her from then forward.

* * *

As the days dragged on, Hilda missed her bed more and more each passing day. Her current living situation sucked. It was cramped, and uncomfortable- not to mention kind of creepy when the moon’s glow outside made for the scariest shadow against the ceiling.

When she reached her breaking point somewhere around midnight, she decided she had to act. She felt very stupid doing it, but she knocked on the door that led from her tiny closet-like room to the main chamber, respecting Edelgard’s initial wish of always knocking.

After a now very familiar gruff voice said “ _come in_ ” Hilda needed no further invitation. She clambered out of her dingy alcove, convinced that if she spent another second in there she would scream.

The white-haired girl was hunched over by her desk, a candle about halfway melted provided the only source of light for the whole room. As always, Edelgard wore her classic bone-colored gloves as she scribbled quickly on a series of papers- from what she could see, she was already done with several drafts of whatever it was she was writing.

To bed, Edelgard wore an elegant satin robe that perfectly covered her well past her ankles. Not that Hilda had been _looking_ to catch a glimpse of skin or anything- she just thought it was weird how modest the other girl dressed without exception. Perhaps instead of Emperor, she would become a Nun in service of Seiros.

Hilda spotted the ribbons she’d given Edelgard carefully pooled in the corner of the desk. It had not gone unnoticed by her that the younger girl had been wearing them every day since she first gave them to her. The sight made her chest tighten with something she didn’t immediately recognize.

“Hey,” Hilda did not wait for a response before making herself comfortable right beside Edelgard in what was definitely an invasion of her personal bubble. “Sooo, who’s Hubert?”

Edelgard placed her arms defensively over her documents, shielding them from view and dropping her quill as she did, “Stop spying on my private letters, Hilda.”

Undeterred, Hilda continued, “Is he your boyfriend? You write to him an awful lot. Always in code, too.”

“Hilda.”

“Hah! Just kidding…he’s actually your vassal, or so my brother said when I asked.”

“You’ve solved the mystery, congratulations.” Edelgard’s tone was dry as she peered up at Hilda in the dark from her place in the writing desk chair. “Is there something you needed?”

“Ooh, I’m so glad you asked, Edelgard! Actually, yes.” Hilda tried to smile as innocently as she could. “I was wondering if you were up for a little challenge?”

“A challenge?”

“Yes! But you can’t tell my brother. Think of it as… a bet of sorts.”

“Hm. If that’s the case, I don’t know that I can agree to your ‘bet’.” A thoughtful pause. At least she’d piqued Edelgard’s interest. “What did you have in mind? What are the terms?”

“Psh! Nothing fancy!” Hilda held up her open palm as if swearing an oath. “Just a friendly arm-wrestling competition. See? Nothing bad.”

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you take me for a fool? I’ve seen you split logs as thick as my torso with an _iron axe_. You certainly are more cunning than you appear.”

“Compliment taken, insult ignored,” Hilda tried to make her smile as agreeable as possible, but desperation had started to seep into it. “You remember that day? Totally a freak accident. In fact, I think what happened in the courtyard might have been a spike of adrenaline? I don’t think I’m always like that?”

Miraculously, somehow, Edelgard seemed to be buying into her words. She was at the very least giving them some thought which in Hilda’s book was a big win, so she took it in stride.

“Plus, you know my everyday schedule! I mean, sheesh, yesterday I think I broke my napping record. Have you seen me pick up an axe since that weird day?” Hilda pressed. When Edelgard shook her head no, Hilda added, “Yet _you_ train every day. You put in the work, and you have been getting amazing results, haven’t you?”

“They have been acceptable, yes,” Edelgard allowed herself a small smile despite herself. _Hook, line and sinker baby_! “If I keep this up, I’ll certainly have an advantage over our future peers at the Officers Academy.”

“Exactly! See what I mean? We both favor the same weapon, so it’s not like one has an unfair advantage over the other.” Hilda waggled her eyebrows, “So! What do you say?”

Edelgard hesitated. “And the terms?”

“Hmm…” Hilda pretended to give it some thought. After an appropriate pause, she snapped her fingers as if the idea just occurred to her, “Oh! Oh, I know! If I win, I get my bed back.”

“And if you lose?” Edelgard’s eyes sparkled dangerously. Hilda could not decide if she was into it or not. “I do not think you have anything that I could possibly want.”

Hilda racked her brain. Obviously, Edelgard was right. She’d come here empty handed, armed only with her unbearable desire to get her bed back after being rudely stripped of it by her evil sibling’s hospitality. What to say, what to say…

“If you win, I’ll tell you all there is to know about one Claude von Riegan,” Hilda said before the words could pass through all the proper filters from her brain to her mouth.

Hilda had never seen Edelgard look more interested in something she’d said before. “ _Oh_?”

Naturally, valuable information on a brand-new player in the political landscape who could potentially become an enemy or ally was something the princess would lap up like nobody’s business. It was the perfect bargaining chip.

“He’ll be the leader of the Golden Deer this year, you know,” Hilda faked a newfound interest in her nails. “They say he’s quite the character. Very private guy. Lucky for you, it turns out that yours truly is privy to some of the juicy stuff.”

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Hilda knew next to _nothing_ about the grandson of the current Leader of the Alliance. The bullshit story had just jumped out of her mouth without permission, but there was no turning back the hands of time.

All she knew was that her brother and Lord Gloucester had respectively thought that _they_ would become the next leaders of their beautiful country when Oswald von Riegan passed… that is, until this punk teen showed up and shattered their hopes and dreams. Honestly, it was kind of funny. Hilda was looking forward to meeting him for real.

“Well, you are right in that regard. Claude certainly seems to be the private type. Hubert’s efforts to gather information have been unsuccessful.” Edelgard says. Hilda decides that it’s in her best interest to completely ignore that last part.

Edelgard holds out her hand which Hilda immediately takes, “You have yourself a deal.”

Hilda wasn’t worried. She’d win this no prob.

The smile suddenly slipped from her face when she realized the force of her opponent’s handshake. Edelgard had a death grip. She did not let go of Hilda’s delicate fingers as she said, “You were right about my training. I’ve moved on to iron axes too, since that day with your ‘freak incident’. We are on an even playing field, I think.”

Okay, Hilda was starting to get a little worried.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hilda’s smile bordered on a snarl. After prying her fingers free, she brought over the chair by the corner of the room and placed it directly beside Edelgard’s own. Together they cleared the rest of the desk of pens, ink and papers. Said papers were carefully folded and stored in one of the drawers.

With that out of the way, the Imperial princess gave her fingers an experimental flex, “I’m equally adept with my left hand, so the positioning shouldn’t be a problem.”

Hilda practically felt her face go purple at the remark and silently wondered how in the world the other girl had just said that with a straight face, but the princess was oblivious to her own words. 

Hm, must’ve grown up quite sheltered. No matter. 

She took her place and positioned her elbow on the table, at level with Edelgard’s waiting arm.

The proximity made their knees brush, and Hilda forced her brain to ignore it. She needed to win this – mainly because she’d lied her ass off and did not want to face the future Emperor’s wrath over her idiotic fake promises.

Her bed had become a second priority.

This was a survival thing now.

When their hands were clasped together, Hilda felt a funny texture under Edelgard’s gloves, right on the back of her hand. She thought perhaps it was some sort of jewelry, but she didn’t want to investigate further by rubbing at it lest the other girl find it extremely weird- which, granted, it would be.

Hilda was definitely worried now.

Edelgard hadn’t been bluffing- the Adrestian noble unquestionably had gotten stronger. In her mind, Hilda had just been hyping her up to provoke her into agreeing to rise to the challenge- to her misfortune, every word she’d uttered had turned out to be true... on both accounts; Hilda hadn’t trained even for a second since the courtyard fiasco.

The youngest Goneril grit her teeth and leaned forward, pushing some of her weight into it. That seemed to put enough pressure on Edelgard so that the other girl had to mimic the move herself.

Edelgard’s face didn’t strain, but her whole arm shook from the effort of trying to slam her opponent’s arm against the oak wood desk. She was crazy powerful, yes, but she also tired easily- if Hilda could hold on a little longer, she could eventually overpower her.

Easier said than done.

She usually wasn’t the praying type, but she offered a silent plea to the goddess. In truth, this is what she got for relying on her natural talent alone and not bothering to hone it further- she was about to lose the dumbest bet in history, all for what?

In case worse came to worst, she started to come up in her head with the craziest stories and achievements that would probably borderline on slander about Claude just to satisfy the Emperor in case she lost.

She wasn’t doing all that hot. Her palms were sweating like crazy, which- ew! The gloves created a barrier between them that protected Edelgard from the sliminess of it all.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this focused before, Hilda.” Edelgard had the absolute gal to smirk at her amidst all her mental chaos. “It’s a good look on you.”

She said that with an air of formality, like a parent complimenting their kid- but Hilda saw an area of opportunity that could be exploited.

“Aw, trying to distract me, are you?” Hilda’s smile was all teeth. “Sorry, babe. It’s not going to work.”

The way Edelgard’s whole body stiffened did not go unnoticed by Hilda because of their joint hands. Her brain reeled at the discovery- her Highness did not react well to teasing. 

_Thank you, goddess_! 

She took the opportunity to tighten her grip and try to force her opponent to get on the defensive. “Why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing.” She hadn’t before, but she sure was now. Edelgard’s arm tilted dangerously to the side.

Hilda smiled sweetly and lowered her voice. “Am I making you nervous?”

Edelgard growled low in her throat, the sound sending a thrill directly down Hilda’s spine. Now, for the killing blow…

“You’re _adorable_!”

THUMP

Edelgard’s hand hit the table and bounced once against it from Hilda’s pent up force. They both stared at their clasped hands against the dark oak before Edelgard quickly pulled hers away and close to her chest, rubbing at her wrist. 

Her cheeks were pink.

“A cheap tactic, even for you.” The future Emperor raised her eyebrows before placing her elbow back on the desk. “Best two out of three?”

“Nuh-huh! That wasn’t the deal!” Honestly, Hilda wasn’t sure if she could win again and she was NOT going to risk it.

Hilda jumped up from her chair with a giggle, practically bouncing on her heels over to her bed before throwing herself face down on it. It smelled like Edelgard. “Oh, how I’ve missed this!”

When met with silence, Hilda rolled to her side to peek at the loser of their bet. Edelgard was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows furrowed. Hilda instinctively frowned. The princess had no business looking that cute with her features all scrunched together. It was the same concerned look she’d had at the very beginning when she had asked how thin the walls were.

“Something wrong?” Hilda propped her head up as she lounged on what was rightfully hers at long last. With her free hand, she started to draw little circles on the surface, enjoying the softness of the duvet. 

Screw the closet and screw Holst, she was _never_ sleeping in that hellhole of a ‘room’ again. 

“Does this mean I’m going to have to sleep… there?” Edelgard points with her chin at the closet door like she was pointing to a dungeon.

Hilda opened her mouth to gleefully reply that, yes, that’s exactly what losing the arm-wrestling match meant- but the poorly-masked fear in Edelgard’s face gave her pause.

A creeping suspicion delayed her reply even further. For some reason she did not want to embarrass the younger girl by asking if she was… you know, scared of the dark. It sure seemed like it. Instead, she went with “Is this about your night terrors?”

Edelgard’s head jerked in her direction, and she nodded solemnly once.

“But you haven’t had any,” Hilda said as gently as she could. “I know you hardly sleep through the whole night, but I haven’t heard any nightmares.”

Edelgard lowered her eyes to fix them firmly on her lap, “That’s because I’ve been sleeping with a rag between my teeth on occasion. It mostly muffles the sounds, and the tossing and turning you probably cannot hear through the door. But it’s happened… often.”

Hilda tries to reply, but she ends up opening and closing her mouth like a fish instead. _How_ come she’d had no idea? It had been a couple of weeks of sleeping right next door, _surely_ , she should have noticed?

But she could tell the Adrestian princess was telling the truth, judging by how revealing every detail of this issue she had seemed as painful to her as pulling teeth.

“I… worry that sleeping in such an enclosed space may aggravate them further.” She’d never heard Edelgard’s usually cool voice sound so small.

Hilda swallowed the lump forming in her throat. No way would she be able to peacefully sleep on her prize with Edelgard’s admission blaring at the front of her brain nonstop.

Well then. She knew what she had to do.

She wasn’t a complete monster, for Cichol’s sake!

She slowly rose so that she was sitting up in bed and at eye-level with the other girl. “Listen, it was just a dumb game. We don’t actually have to switch, okay? I was just being petty.”

Ever the gracious one, Edelgard got up from her spot on the chair. “I gave you my word-”

“Oh, no! No, no, no! Now don’t you try to be all noble and shit after confessing just how terrified of sleeping in the servant’s quarters you are-” Hilda jumped up too, meeting with Edelgard halfway in the middle of her room.

“Fine! Then perhaps we can just share your bed. It’s big enough for two.”

Hilda had been ready to keep roasting the princess over the guilt-tripping and for being a sore loser, but she definitely had not expected that compromise, especially coming from her.

She was convinced the Imperial princess pretty much hated her guts. She blinked in confusion “Are you sure?”

Edelgard nodded, and Hilda became acutely aware of just how close the Adrestian heir was. The source of the smell that had assaulted her back in her bed was now flooding her senses tenfold, making her head swim pleasantly.

She had to actually physically shake her head from side to side to clear her thoughts from how nice the younger woman smelled. For good measure, she even took a small step back to leave room for Seiros. “I mean… I could live with that. If you’re willing _and_ if you don’t tell Holst. That’s super important.”

“I am,” Edelgard confirmed. The corner of her lips curved up into one of her rare half-smiles, the type that made Hilda’s tummy somersault. “But I must admit I don’t understand what your brother has got to do with it.”

Hilda let out a breath that quickly turned into blowing a raspberry. “It’s generally frowned upon to sleep with guests, don’t you agree?”

There she went again with her unchecked mouth. Now it was time for Hilda’s cheeks to match the color of her hair as heat quickly rose to her face.

What she’d meant to say was something more along the lines of _it would be rude to be hogging all the sheets with a guest over_! But something went wrong between her thinking it and between her actually saying the words out loud.

Before Edelgard could dignify that mess of a sentence with a response, Hilda quickly changed the subject and clapped her hands in dismissal, speaking faster than what should be humanly possible “ _Anyway_! I’m beat, aren’t you? Arm wrestling is so much fun- um, well, time for bed, I say! Do you want the wall? Or do you have a preference? Let me take care of the light for us!”

Thankfully, she lets her off the hook.

As it turns out, Edelgard did want the side of the wall. Which was just fine by Hilda, who didn’t really care. After quickly putting out the candle by the desk which was the last source of man-made light in their shared room, Hilda joined Edelgard on her bed.

She felt the mattress dip under her weight, but if Edelgard minded the small earthquake she did not show it. Hilda lay down on her side, facing her unconventional roommate. Through the dark, her worry-all voice murmured “If you hear me making noises, or if I start kicking and flailing-”

“Should I wake you?”

“Yes, but be cautious… Hubert got a black eye in return for his good intentions once.”

Hilda made a face, which Edelgard couldn’t see in the dark. “A black eye doesn’t make for a very cute look.”

The Adrestian princess hummed “I don’t know. It made him look kind of rugged. Very different from how he normally looks to be sure.”

“Oh? Is that code for _handsome_? Does that mean you like him?” Hilda’s eyes were heavy with sleep, her blissfully comfortable bed as inviting as ever, but something about the current tone of their conversation made her want to fight the looming fatigue.

She could not determine Edelgard’s exact expression in the dark, but her next words were definitely cagey, “Will you stop trying to pair me up with Hubert? I don’t think I have ever given _you_ any indication to think I’m interested in him.”

“Huh. So, what _do_ you look like when you’re interested in someone, princess?” Hilda slipped a hand under her pillow, now wide awake despite what a relief it would be to just close her eyes and let the wave of tiredness wash over her into a delightful sleep that she desperately needed.

“Well- allow me to quote probably the greatest poet of our lifetime…” Edelgard leaned in closer still, making Hilda’s heart do a somersault. The other girl’s breath tickled her face when she said “Mind. Your. Business.”

Having her own words thrown back at her with such perfect delivery resulted in Hilda being unable to be mad.

Who knew that her Highness had this sharp of a sense of humor? Or any at all? Regardless, she still wanted an answer to her question. “ _Edelgard_!” was all she managed to sputter.

The other girl’s laugh was soft as she rolled over, turning her back to Hilda’s indignant pout. “Good night, Hilda.”

* * *

Unfortunately, it did not turn out to be a good night.

Hilda had managed to catch maybe a couple of hours of sleep before a jab to the small of her back startled her awake, followed by a grunt.

She was groggy and disoriented at first, wondering if one of Holst’s dogs had snuck into the room to fish for attention with no regard to the concept of time. But last night’s events quickly came back to her when she sat up and her bleary eyes finally focused on the small body beside her thanks to the moonlight’s glow through the windows.

Edelgard was curled up in on herself, her whole body balled up with tension. Hilda quickly realized that what had stabbed at her back had been the heel of Edelgard’s foot. It seemed to be a restless sleep, but at least she wasn’t wide awake at this godforsaken hour. She hated the idea of waking her, despite Edelgard’s instructions to do so in case of a nightmare.

Hilda could not remember a time off the top of her head in which she had comforted another human being, but she had to try. Right? Maybe she could help the princess have some semblance of peace in her sleep for once.

“Edelgard, it’s just a dream,” Hilda said softly. Her voice was croaky with sleep. She cleared her throat before trying again, “You’re okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. _Shh_.”

For a mortifying moment she thought she’d managed to wake Edelgard when her rigid body began to move, but the Adrestian heir was merely rolling to her side. She was muttering something that distressed her enough that beads of sweat gathered at her brow.

Hilda lowered her body back down, leaning in as close as she could without touching her to try to decipher what exactly tormented the future Emperor in her sleep.

Names.

She was saying names, over and over, like a mantra. After a minute of it, she noticed a pattern. Ten names. Hilda did not recognize any of them, but if the spelling was anything like she was thinking then those were usually more common names for people of the Empire.

“Hey, hey, you’re good,” Hilda tried again. Against her better judgement, she pressed her body against Edelgard’s, hoping maybe the proximity would soothe her. “I got you. You’re safe here. _You’re okay_.”

Unexpectedly and very, very slowly, she felt Edelgard’s body start to relax against her own, her curved back fit together surprisingly well with Hilda’s front. Her hands - _gloved still_ to Hilda’s disbelief- were still balled into tight fists, but her breathing had become less labored and she’d stopped uttering the names.

Eventually the storm seemed to pass, the only remnant of it was Edelgard’s jaw twitching occasionally but her panic had been replaced by soft snoring. Even her hands had slowly released their hold and unclenched.

She’d never seen the uptight girl look so… at peace. It was like the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders when she was unconscious.

Cute. That was also a fair description of how she looked in that moment. When she wasn’t grumbling about her being a bum and a slacker, Edelgard definitely had a certain… appeal. Without those piercing violet eyes judging her every move, she was a lot easier to stomach.

Why couldn’t she be this at peace when awake? That way, maybe after she relaxed some, she and Hilda could actually get along!

When she was fairly sure no more limbs would be jabbing her in painful places, she slowly unwrapped herself from around Edelgard’s frame. Hilda immediately missed the warmness –spooning was definitely an interesting way to deal with the coldness of winter– but she did not want to risk Edelgard waking with no warning and scream bloody murder.

She ignored the way the other girl shifted after her seeking the heat that had suddenly stopped after she fully removed her body and turned away, determined to get her much deserved rest.

* * *

The bags under her eyes were almost worth it the next morning when she woke to find Edelgard looking decidedly vibrant and extremely well-rested for literally the first time ever.

“Good morning, Hilda! Did you sleep well?”

Okay, fine.

Worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hildagard nation we have been starving for too long.
> 
> this is entirely self-indulgent and nothing online catered to my very specific tastes so i followed gandhi's advice of "be the change you wish to see in the world" and here we are lads, enjoy
> 
> also i havent written anything in English in 3 years bear with me i needed this out of my system


	2. two

**2**

Hilda wasn’t a huge fan of rain, but rain in Goneril territory was a good sign- it meant the cold would soon be behind them, and spring would be here in no time.

But rain meant staying indoors. She’d tried wandering the great hall. Snacking in the kitchen until being kicked out by the cook. Snooping around her brother’s study, until chased out by him.

Finally, inevitably, all roads led her back to her room. It could not be helped, then. She knocked.

“Come in.”

Having to ask for permission to enter her own room never failed to make a cloud of irritation rain down on her head every time she did it. 

Which was. Every. Time.

“I’m bored,” Hilda announced, but given her guest's response, she might as well have said nothing.

Edelgard was sitting on her bed with her back against the wall. The princess did not look up from the bunch of papers on her lap and merely replied with a noncommittal _hmm_.

As soon as Hilda approached to join her, however, Edelgard scrambled to hide her letters from view like she usually did- only that this time, Hilda noted a small flush making its way up the future Emperor’s neck.

Hm. Interesting.

“Whatcha got there?”

“I thought we had established that my letters were my private business?”

Hilda made a face. “I don’t care about your pen pal Hubert, you can keep him. I was just wondering if there was literally anyone else in _all_ of Fódlan her Imperial Highness deemed worthy to send a letter to. That’s all!”

“If you must know,” Edelgard is still somewhat rattled over whatever she was reading, making Hilda obsessed to find out all the juicy details. “It’s from the Prime Minister’s son, Ferdinand von Aegir. _And before you ask_ , no! He is _not_ my boyfriend.”

Hilda clamps her mouth shut.

“He wants to get acquainted through letters before we start our year at Garreg Mach, seeing as someday he may become _my_ Prime Minister.” Edelgard continues, and then adds with a frown, “But he’s so… open in writing, and… graphic.”

Hilda’s eyes widen to twice their size, and she practically lunges for the papers invading the future Emperor’s personal space as she often did nowadays, “Please, please, _please_ let me read some!”

Edelgard bats her back down with said papers, letting her settle right next to her against the wall. The rain outside continues to batter the window, giving no indication of stopping anytime soon.

“Someone’s eager,” she says as she hands over a single page over to Hilda and gets the rest out of sight. “This is all you’re getting, and only because I am so concerned about you dying from boredom.”

“The Emperor’s compassion truly knows no bounds. Archbishop Rhea has some competition,” Hilda says, completely missing Edelgard’s frown at the comparison before giddily scanning the contents of Ferdinand’s letter.

The more she reads, however, the more her frown mirrors the one that had been on Edelgard’s face before it dwarfs it entirely. She can feel the princess’ hot breath on her skin as they read her correspondence together over her shoulder, waiting for the verdict.

Slowly, she puts the letter down. “Edelgard.”

“What?”

Hilda takes a deep breath before losing it. “Edelgard, you’re _such a prude_!”

The Imperial noble is taken aback, her lavender eyes wide in alarm, “Excuse me?”

“This isn’t even remotely graphic!” Hilda jabs one perfectly manicured nail against the offending piece of paper, “The poor boy is just describing his first kiss to you… jeez, he can’t even spell _passionately_ right.”

“But it is!” Edelgard insists. “I don’t understand why he would think I’d be remotely interested in reading about his very personal endeavors.”

That earns her an eyeroll from Hilda, “He’s just telling you about his week. In great detail, I suppose. It’s kind of sweet if you think about it.”

“I haven’t met him in person, but he strikes me as very competitive. His father was the same towards mine, until…” she doesn’t have to finish. Hilda knew all about the Empire’s internal power struggle where her father had been rendered quite useless.

Edelgard huffs. “Well, whatever his aim, I think it was inappropriate.”

“Oh, come on. As if you didn’t rush to tell anyone who would listen about your first kiss.” Hilda smiles and pokes at the duvet below her, remembering hers. It had been sloppy and their teeth had clashed together, but she still remembered the encounter fondly.

After Edelgard’s silence becomes rather pronounced, Hilda looks sideways at her, “Um?”

Her jaw was set in what Hilda had come to recognize as the future Emperor being _embarrassed_. Upon further inspection, she decided that this was a different kind of embarrassed, not really similar to her fear of the dark or the nightmares. It was something else entirely.

“Edelgard?”

No response.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Edelgard still won’t meet her gaze but her words are sharp. “What is there to talk about? No, I did not tell anyone about my first kiss, on account that it has not yet happened.”

“Oh.” Hilda’s heart begins to race as her imagination starts to run wild with possibility, “Been too busy?”

She almost can’t quite catch Edelgard’s reply thanks to the howling of the wind and rain out the window when she mumbles, “You could say that.”

As it was something that clearly bothered her, Hilda and her naturally generous nature could not help but formulate a proposition for the Imperial princess’ consideration.

“Huh. Well. Just so you’re not behind on this particular subject in relation to our future peers at the Academy, I could show you, if you want?”

Finally, after averting her gaze for the last few minutes, the other girl meets her eyes, suspicion clouding them, “Is this some sort of trick?”

Hilda could not help but scowl at Edelgard’s distrusting nature. Would it really kill her to accept that sometimes others did not have underlying motives, that they were _not_ out to get her?

Sometimes there was just nothing more to it than offering to kiss a pretty girl just because she felt like it, and she wished her roommate could see it that way.

“No tricks,” Hilda says, but she leaves the scowl in place to let Edelgard know she hurt her feelings. “But if you’re going to be weird about it, then I’m not sure I still want to—” 

“Forgive me,” Edelgard says quickly. “I did not mean to come off as…” she swallows, and opts to apologize again instead, “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I was under the impression that you did not like me all that much.”

Hilda snorts. “Do you think I liked about half the people I’ve kissed?”

Edelgard’s brows knit together, “I thought that was a given?”

“Not necessarily,” she offers the princess a small smile, “ _buuut_ this could be a good opportunity to change that! A fun, if albeit unconventional way for two pals to unwind!” 

“Like a bonding experience, huh?” The princess is back to avoiding her eyes, instead fixing them on a spot far above Hilda’s head as the nervous energy practically radiates off her small frame.

Yikes. She’d kissed people she didn’t _like_ before, but never someone who was not at the very least attracted to her. From the Adrestian’s rigid body language, she wasn’t sure if they were on the same page on that vital little detail.

Had she been reading it wrong? Or did she just think too highly of herself? She could swear she sometimes got the impression that Edelgard was blatantly checking her out.

Like… Hilda had gone through enough internal growth that she could at the very least admit to herself that the princess was certainly attractive, though _obviously_ never to her face, lest her head triple in size at the admission.

She nudged the other girl with a friendly elbow to the arm, “At least look at me! Stop making this awkward.”

Edelgard forces her eyes away from the fascinating spot on the wall, finally making eye contact, “I did not mean for—”

Tired of her incessant apologies, Hilda closes the gap between them with her lips, effectively interrupting Edelgard’s words with a small _mmph!_

She keeps it short, almost chaste, before pulling away to gauge the future Emperor’s reaction. Edelgard blinks slowly and leans back against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder with Hilda.

To her great irritation, the other girl has _the look_ Hilda hates the most in the world: she looks disappointed, with a capital D. “That’s what the big fuss is about?”

“That was just a peck, silly. There’s more to it!” Hilda defends. She wanted to take things slow to avoid spooking the Imperial princess, but apparently Edelgard did not like _slow_.

But Hilda liked to take her time.

The rain outside had calmed down to a soft patter against the window, and the sun was going down, making Edelgard’s light hair look platinum in the fading light.

Hilda scooches away from her spot by the wall and Edelgard, who’s still resting her back against it, allows herself to be straddled by the Alliance noble. To her satisfaction, the future Emperor’s eyes widen at the contact, and Hilda finally obtains confirmation: Edelgard was _very into_ what was happening between them.

She starts peppering kisses along the younger girl’s jaw and chin, dangerously close to her mouth but never quite there, albeit teasing her a little. Hilda figured it was a last minute opportunity for the Imperial noble to change her mind and put a stop to this if she wanted to.

Just when she started to lavish her neck with attention, Edelgard nudges her head to the side with her own, “What are you doing?”

“I’m testing the waters,” Hilda would never admit how badly she wanted to just pounce on the other noble already, but something held her back. “Just a friendly check-in to see if you’ve changed your mind, princess.”

“Although this certainly feels nice and I would like a repeat of it at another time…” her voice was tinged with excitement that made Hilda’s heart swell, “I wish you would focus your efforts elsewhere.”

A slow, playful smile spreads across Hilda’s face. She taps Edelgard’s bottom lip with a finger, “How about here?”

She greatly enjoys the way Edelgard squirms in place under her, and gives an impatient nod. “ _Yes_.”

No more walking on eggshells, then.

Hilda cups her face before murmuring, “Lesson number two: a proper kiss.” 

This time Edelgard is being thoroughly kissed, her free trial with a meek peck far behind them. What the princess lacked in experience, she certainly made up for with enthusiasm, and she felt Edelgard’s strong -gloved, she noted- hands pulling her close to keep their bodies flush together.

Emboldened by the princess’ actions, Hilda deepens their kiss, and tries not to smile against the other girl's lips, but it’s difficult. Never in a billion years did she think she would be this much into kissing the likes of Edelgard von Hresvelg.

She didn’t really care to understand what came over her- the only feeling she could relate it to was that one time her brother had let her wield the Heroes Relic of their family, the legendary axe Freikugel. Hilda didn’t really know why, but both activities had made her feel the same amount of smug and excited and powerful all at once.

When she feels Edelgard’s lips begin to part under hers, she forces herself to stop.

Hilda pulls away and is pleased when Edelgard’s mouth chases after her, panting softly. She places a hand to her sternum and pushes her back gently against the wall, “Now who’s the eager one?”

“Is there a lesson number three?” Edelgard’s pupils are blown wide. She licks her lips. “Because that was… surprisingly enjoyable.”

She relishes the fact that Edelgard is downplaying it, when the longing on her face is crystal clear and Hilda is very glad to know that she wasn’t crazy or imagining the sexual tension between them. However, she was nowhere near done with the unwinding she had promised.

“Such high praise! You flatterer, you,” Hilda offers a dazzling smile as she traces the corner of the other girl’s lips with her thumb. The Adrestian princess had quite a lovely mouth. “Okay! I guess all that’s left is the art of making out.”

No further words are needed. Hilda brings their mouths together for a third time, Edelgard’s lips are warm and yielding under hers. The rain pouring down right by the window becomes a pleasant lulling sound in the background, masking sighs and other sounds with its continuous drumming. 

When Hilda finally parts her lips to ask for entrance, the other girl is all too willing to let her in. The Alliance noble greedily explores the heat of Edelgard’s mouth with her tongue, gripping her shoulders for balance.

Edelgard has somewhat got the gist of it- and she’s a fast learner, Hilda quickly finds, because in addition to mimicking a lot of what Hilda does, she starts to suck on Hilda’s bottom lip, scraping her teeth lightly against the sensitive skin there. The Goneril heir digs her nails into Edelgard's shoulders at the feeling.

If the princess minds, she does not protest. In fact, when a noise rises in the back of Edelgard’s throat and is trapped between their mouths, Hilda has to actually physically pull back to breathe and to calm herself down. The heat pooling between her legs is becoming increasingly hard to ignore, too.

The brief pause does not sit well with Edelgard, whose dominant nature starts to rear its ugly head. She tries to flip their positions so she would be on top with Hilda is laying against the bed.

Hilda, however, is having none of it.

She actually manages to wrestle the future emperor down so that _she’s_ laying on her back, still trapped between Hilda’s knees. Making out sitting against the wall was fun, but the comfiness of the bed should be even better for what Hilda had in mind.

When she goes to pin her hands down, however, Edelgard freaks.

“N-No. Stop. Stop!”

Hilda freezes. Although every primal part of her brain that seeks release and wants more of the pleasure of making out with a pretty lady resents the command, the youngest Goneril quickly obliges and rolls off Edelgard, landing on what had become _her_ side of the bed.

They’re both breathing heavily and it’s a minute before Edelgard explains herself. When she does, her voice is soft but firm, “I don’t like to be restrained.”

“Duly noted…” Hilda’s heart is still racing like a hummingbird’s. She thought Edelgard would just recede back into her shell and avoid her gaze like it burned, but she’s resting on her side and making steady contact.

“I just… I don’t like losing control.” Edelgard’s words are so serious, Hilda feels the overall mood change accordingly with them. “That happened once and- and I promised myself that never again.”

She wonders if this has anything to do with her night terrors, or perhaps if it’s the root of them in some way. Either way, she knows not to ask.

“Yeah, yeah. My bad, I should’ve touched base.” Hilda shrugs sheepishly. “I’ll be more mindful next time?”

Edelgard regains her composure enough to raise her brows, “ _Next time_?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve had your fill already?”

“Perhaps it won’t hurt to indulge further some other day. It was…” The Adrestian princess bites her lips, which are a little swollen. Hilda stares. “It was actually a lot of fun. I think I understand now why Ferdinand was so desperate to share.”

Hilda giggles and leans a tad bit closer, their bodies almost touching. “You were pretty good at it… for a newbie.”

She does not miss the way that Edelgard’s face flushes at the praise, and her smile becomes positively impish. “Oh? I saw that. You have a thing for being praised!”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Whatever. I’ll file that information away for later.”

Edelgard looks like she wants to punch her, but she does something that surprises her even more. She carefully tilts her head forward and kisses Hilda.

“Mm… someone’s getting confident,” is all Hilda can come up with when they part, because she’s pretty sure her brain just turned to jelly.

“Maybe we can continue to indulge when I’m done penning up this reply,” Edelgard sits up, and fixes her tousled hair back into place. She jumps over Hilda’s body and towards the desk, pulling out her writing quill from one of the drawers.

“You gonna write to Ferdinand in ample detail about this?” Hilda’s smirk is too cocky for her own good. “Make sure it’s graphic!”

With a laugh, Hilda swiftly dodges the shoe that’s thrown her way with abysmal accuracy.

* * *

Turns out, becoming involved with Edelgard von Hresvelg had greatly increased her overall quality of life. 

It had patched issue after issue and it just did not stop being a wonderful time. It was the gift that keeps on giving. Several of their dynamics had changed, too.

Bedtime wasn’t a big deal anymore. Now Hilda could stay smack in the middle of the bed the way she liked to without it feeling like she was illegally crossing an international border if she accidentally invaded what had become Edelgard’s side. And they cuddled for warmth! And it was great!

The cold winter could suck it!

Of course, Hilda was not a de-traumatizing spell or anything fancy like that, so the nightmares persisted, but it was easier to comfort Edelgard now that she could hug and touch her pretty much freely. While still intense, it was easier to deal with them.

Also she’d found a wonderful way to just shut Edelgard up when she started being a pest regarding just about anything. Start criticizing Hilda’s lack of motivation? Kiss to the mouth! Nag about the obscene amount of naps she took between tasks? Peck to the nose!

Showering the future emperor with affection never left her unscathed, and she usually became too flustered to continue harassing Hilda. Instead of storming out or slamming doors like they’d done in the first couple of weeks, they fixed their differences by making out behind said doors. The Imperial noble was, probably above all else, craving some human touch.

And jeez was Edelgard starving in that front! 

Hilda was all too happy to oblige any and all of Edelgard’s requests whenever she had the courage to just flat-out ask or just initiate them herself.

She’d found that the Adrestian was bolder at night, under the cover of the dark and in the privacy of their shared room. She was much more timid out in the open, and it was guaranteed that she would not touch Hilda with a ten-foot pole when her Uncle was around. The man still gave off the most horrible energy in the history of Fódlan.

Which was fair. In return, Hilda also ignored the other girl entirely whenever Holst showed up. It wasn’t that she was _ashamed_ or worried, in fact, her brother did not discriminate- he treated _all_ her possible suitors in the same horrible way, and Hilda would rather spare Edelgard the experience.

All of the staff at the manor had been pretty discreet about it, too.

The only one that _really_ knew something was going on was Hilda’s father, who’d given her a toothless smile and a thumbs-up when he’d caught Hilda with her hand up the future emperor’s skirt in the hallway after dark. 

Her old man was much too old to directly deal with her youngest daughter’s shenanigans and escapades, so she wasn’t worried about him blabbing to Holst. If anything, he’d looked kinda proud. Still, Edelgard stopped meeting her father’s eyes during dinner after that.

They’d finally found good synergy between them- granted it didn’t address the fundamental and underlying issues, but Hilda would take the easy path over their endless feuding any day.

* * *

One thing that hadn’t changed was the sheer awkwardness of their meals, when all five lords gathered (namely the two girls, Hilda’s father, her brother and Lord Arundel), with the latter’s presence constantly keeping her on edge. 

Luckily he was always the last to arrive and the first to leave, which was just fine by Hilda. She tried to frequent him the least amount of time possible, and he made it really easy to avoid him.

Then it was her father who bid them goodnight, and he was closely followed by Holst in order to help their old man with his nighttime routine. Over his shoulder he mumbled something or other about the leftover dishes, but tragically his message was lost to the wind. Typical case of miscommunication. It was very sad, but if Hilda did not hear it then she could not oblige it, now could she?

Once they were alone the girls went to the living area to sit in her father’s old leather chair. She sat between Edelgard’s legs and focused on her latest creation: a custom belt for her Garreg Mach uniform to spice it up a little. 

Since she already knew she would not get to wear the fancy cloak the House Leader usually wore in account of Claude von Riegan’s existence, she figured she could make hers look as unique as possible despite her limited options. The regular uniforms fit into two categories, which were Ugly or Uglier, so she had some work ahead of her.

Her brother had left the fireplace going to warm the room up, making Hilda feel toasty and sleepy. It didn’t help that Edelgard was playing with her hair while she worked, pampering her in just the way she needed after another long day of avoiding literally all of her chores.

“Holst asked you to clear the table.”

“Did he really? I don’t recall.”

She feels Edelgard’s grip tighten on her hair. “He was quite clear.”

Hilda sighs, “Holst never stops wanting things. Just today he asked me to do my morning prayers, and I didn’t do that either now did I?”

“That’s not very pious of you.”

“Says the heretic,” Hilda snorts as she continues to cut along the uneven edges of her belt until it somewhat resembles what she has in mind.

Edelgard tugs at her hair again, clearly displeased by her words. “ _Heretic_?”

“Ow! Yank my hair again and I’ll resort to violence,” Hilda warns. The sharp pull almost made her cut her belt clean in half with her special little crafting shears. Edelgard places a soft kiss to her nape in apology, placating her.

“My apologies,” Edelgard murmurs, going back to gently running her fingers through pink locks. “I’m just wondering why you would say that.”

“Well, last time we were in the chapel you didn’t close your eyes along with everyone else.” Hilda answers. The left wing of the manor housed a small chapel that mostly went unused, but occasionally Hilda’s father would request they all meet for prayer and they could never refuse him. Edelgard had been invited to the latest of these gatherings.

“Sounds like you didn’t either.”

“That’s because I was looking at _you_. You were wearing those shorts I like,” Hilda says, then starts listing off, “You also didn’t incline your head when you walked by the Seiros statue _or_ join in with the choir when-”

“You certainly pay a lot of attention to what I do and do not do during church service,” is Edelgard’s brusque reaction. She doesn’t tug at her hair again, but she can tell the Adrestian is getting upset by the direction of the conversation.

“I mean, I really don’t? I only really noticed because Holst pointed out how uncomfortable you looked,” Hilda says, “He thought it was just because you needed to pee and were too polite to say it, but I could tell it was just… not your thing.”

Hilda places her completed craft on the side table, satisfied with the results, although there was still room for improvement. She squeezes Edelgard’s knee, “Don’t worry. I’ll excuse us both next time so we don’t have to attend if you don’t want to, okay? I have a doctorate on talking my way out of going to church. _Especially_ the early morning services.”

The fire pops and crackles in its corner and Hilda feels tempted to just lay back against Edelgard’s form and go to sleep right then and there but she fights the urge. These clothes were _not_ for sleeping in them. The other girl is silent for so long Hilda almost forgets she’s yet to reply, but when she does, its very, very quiet.

“I do not like the Church very much.”

Hilda had guessed as much, but it still feels like a big admission on Edelgard’s part.

“The church is just an institution, what matters is your relationship with the goddess,” Hilda tells her. She doesn’t know what comes over her, but she adds in a similar conspiratorial tone, “I hated the goddess for a while growing up, you know? I didn’t understand why She’d take my mother from me. Why She didn’t let me meet her. Ugh- it’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Hilda’s chuckle is humorless, “Oh, but it is. Did you know that apparently there’s no real reason for it and _should the goddess decide to take a soul it is not up to unworthy mortals to question Her_?”

“That sounds like you’re quoting something some asshole said to you after your mother’s passing,” Edelgard is fuming now. “Was it someone from the church?”

Hilda wasn’t the most devout believer, but she didn’t want to speak blasphemy either. Father said the church had eyes and ears everywhere, and if you talked shit about the goddess She would know- he had not used those exact words, but that was Hilda’s interpretation of it.

So she limits her reply to, “Mhm. It sure was.” 

Now Hilda does not like where the conversation is heading. The way it’s going, it may very well force her to deal with feelings she’s repressed for years and she just is not in the headspace to unpack all of it at that moment. She needed to change the direction of this ASAP.

She twists around in Edelgard’s embrace to face her, “Wanna go to bed?”

Thankfully, she lets the subject drop. Unfortunately, she picks up the previous one.

“Sure. Just as soon as you finish clearing the table.”

Hilda hisses as if she’s been burned, “I feel a headache coming on,” she tries to rise up and away from the other noble, “I think the best course of action would be to sleep it off-”

She yelps as Edelgard’s legs lock around her, keeping her in place. Hilda struggles to rise up using her upper body strength, but she’s embarrassingly caged by the other girl’s powerful grip, _and_ having gravity on her side. “Let me _go,_ ” Hilda whines. 

The warmth and general toastiness of the room saps at her strength. She tries to wiggle out a few more times before her arms give out from under her and she lets herself fall against Edelgard’s chest. “You’re so bossy!”

“And you’re a brat,” Edelgard says, not unkindly. “It’s just a few plates. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Because! Holst needs to stop being on my case for five seconds. He’s a busy bee but some of us don’t share the sentiment.” Hilda pouts, and in her hormonal teenage ways she gets a dark look on her face, “I sometimes wish that-”

“Don’t finish the thought,” Edelgard’s eyes flash with something that Hilda had not seen in them before and doesn’t immediately recognize. “Do not say something about your brother you may regret.”

Grief. What she’d seen briefly on the future Emperor’s eyes had been grief. Hilda knew better than to ask, so she doesn't. Edelgard was an only child as far as she knew, so she didn’t understand why she constantly felt the need to play Holst’s advocate.

The Imperial princess lets her legs fall on either side of her, finally releasing her, but Hilda stays right where she is.

“I love Holst,” Hilda amends, “But he seriously needs to give me some space. I guess Garreg Mach will give us a much needed detox from each other. Knowing him, he’ll probably overdo it with the letters though.”

Edelgard looks to be moved by that and it seems she has fallen for Hilda’s smoke screen of sisterly love because she says, “I can clear the table for you.”

Hilda almost jolts in surprise at having her attempts to paw off tasks to Edelgard _finally_ work, _and without her asking_ , but she remains perfectly still.

 _No, this was too good to be real_. 

Her eyes narrow in suspicion as she asks, “Is this some reverse psychology thing? To make me feel guilty and do it myself?”

“It is not… but if it were, would it work?” the lazy grin that spreads across Edelgard’s face is one she hadn’t seen before and quickly grows to adore it. She cups Hilda’s face with a gloved hand, “But wouldn’t you rather just _do it yourself?_ ”

Hilda was about to lean into the touch but she quickly jerks away. “I knew it!”

The other girl’s eyes harden. “Clear the table so we can go to bed, please.”

Hilda would not budge that easily though. The night was still young, and she hadn’t tried _all_ the tricks up her sleeve yet- and she had a lot of them. 

She lets her gaze fall to Edelgard’s lips, “I can think of a better use of my time than picking up some dishes, you know…” she trails off suggestively.

But her strategy is usurped. 

Edelgard pitches forward and captures her mouth in a searing kiss. It doesn’t last all that long, but it’s enough to leave her breathless and hungry for more when they part. When Hilda tries to lean in for another, however, she’s stopped by a gloved hand held up between them.

“I’m not touching you again until that table is taken care of,”— and _that's_ the future Emperor’s final threat.

Hilda is furious. Edelgard is using the strategy that _Hilda_ had been using herself. While she used it to get the Adrestian noble to shut up when she got too self-righteous or just to fluster her for funsies, Edelgard had decided to employ it on bribery and manipulation.

 _Why_ hadn’t _she_ thought of it first?

Hilda glowers, “Then why did you offer in the first place?!”

As indignation floods her, she takes the opportunity to perch herself on the armrest of the same chair and escape from whatever it was the other girl was planning in that calculating head of hers. 

“Yes, you were right, it _was_ reverse psychology,” Edelgard picks at the cracked leather below her in her disappointment. “Sadly it seems I need to resort to more… unorthodox methods to get you to cooperate.”

“W-What? Is this like an ultimatum? _Clean the stupid table or no more kisses_?”

“It would not be limited to kisses, no.”

Hilda presses her lips together into a thin, angry line. They had had a productive last couple of weeks in which Hilda taught Edelgard every fun activity they had missed out on while being at each other’s throats. Her initial assessment had been on point; Edelgard was a frighteningly fast learner _and_ she did not like _slow_. 

A white head of hair moving between her legs had become Hilda’s favorite sight as of late, and she was _not_ willing to give that up over some stupid plates.

However, she knew that if she yielded on this she would be wrapped around Edelgard’s little finger, and she could not allow that. So she decides to try for a compromise, “Let’s clear the table together?”

Edelgard yawns and folds her hands behind the back of her head, “I don’t think so.”

Fine. Two could play that game.

Hilda feigns to experience some discomfort for a minute or so before she starts fanning herself, “Whew! Holst overdid it with the kindling,” she ties her twintails back into a ponytail, “It’s like a sauna in here!”

She starts to unbutton her blouse in an almost meticulous way, leaving just the last two at the bottom to hold the garment together. She chances a glance at Edelgard, who was looking quite confused until realization dawns on her face and a delicious blush spreads across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.

Somehow, the poor girl strings a sentence together, “I-Is that really necessary-”

“Yes! Better safe than sorry!” she makes sure to lean over to the side so Edelgard can get a good look, “I don’t want to risk a tragic case of heatstroke in this very living room.”

In the many ways Edelgard’s body was blessed, the department of cleavage was not one of them- and Hilda knew the Imperial princess was rather fond of hers. Edelgard forces her eyes away from her undergarments and when lavender meets pink, Hilda offers a coy smile in return.

The Alliance noble narrows her eyes in the general direction of the dining table, “Ah, well, your loss as well as mine I guess?”

She launches herself off the armrest, only to be immediately joined by Edelgard.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Edelgard looks positively pissed.

Hilda brightens. “Together?”

“ _Yes_ , Hilda. Together.”

Compromising was great!

* * *

After a good-night’s sleep on both their ends (those were rare) Hilda woke up to neck kisses, courtesy of Edelgard. She craned her head back on the pillow to give her better access, stretching her body in the process and popping a bone or two.

The movement caused the top she used to sleep in to ride up, exposing her tummy. Edelgard, a known admirer of her abs, was quick to place her hands on the exposed skin which was free for her to explore.

And. _And_ she was wearing _the gloves_. Hilda felt a flash of annoyance stain her otherwise perfect morning.

As of late, she’d become increasingly annoyed at their general existence which seemed to be an extension of Edelgard herself. If she thought _really_ hard about it, she had never seen the other girl’s hands… which was pretty weird, right?

The pure white pair were sewn from high-quality material, and they seemed glued to her owner. Like a weirdo, Hilda started to wonder what was under them. 

First just innocuous stuff, like she speculated if the other girl had any cute freckles or if her hands were calloused like hers were from years of using an axe. Then she wondered if she was hiding something, like a tattoo or a birthmark? Maybe?

Edelgard nuzzling into her neck started to distract her- but not enough to stop her newfound resolve. Hilda wanted to feel her _actual hands_ , her actual nails, drag across her body. She wanted that skin-to-skin feel.

“Hey… can we ditch the gloves?”

Like halting the hands of time, Edelgard stopped all of her ministrations entirely to peer up at Hilda in that evaluating way of hers. The future emperor seemed to be picking apart her face, searching for any sign of malice to her words. Hilda blinked back, looking as earnest as she could manage that early in the morning.

Again she had that look as if measuring the pros and cons of telling Hilda something personal about her, running through every possible scenario in her head and then deciding based on the riskiness.

She sits up, legs crossed, and unsure of what she should do Hilda copies the pose opposite of her.

“Under one condition.” Edelgard swallows, looking apprehensive as ever.

“What is it?”

“You may not ask any questions. And I mean… absolutely _none_.”

Her words just encouraged Hilda’s theory of the other girl having some sort of body art under there, though she really did not seem the type. Also, if it _was_ a tattoo, why hide it so fervently? Why the obsessively modest clothing at all times? 

“Not a peep,” Hilda agreed, pressing her lips together in an almost comical way to emphasize it.

It took several seconds while the other girl gathered her nerve, but eventually she rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath.

Shakily, Edelgard held up one hand and pinched the cloth of the index finger with the other, and peeled off one glove. The next soon followed. 

Her hands were, finally, out in the open.

Hilda felt her gut twist in an unpleasant way exactly at what Edelgard had been so nervous about.

Her hands were scarred.

Very, _very_ scarred, and not just from callouses which she also did have. The skin puckered up and had healed in a shape that suggested that the original wounds had been inflicted, and were much too precise to be the result of an accident or the aftermath of a wild animal’s attack.

 _Someone did this to her_.

Hilda tentatively reached out to hold them in her own, and after a moment’s hesitation Edelgard allowed it, and she started to gently rub small circles on the back of her marred hands. “Maybe just one peep?”

“No, Hilda.” Edelgard took another of her shuddering breaths. “Not with this.”

She felt that the questions bubbling inside her would burn a hole through her throat, but intent on respecting Edelgard’s wishes she swallowed them all down, bitter as they tasted. So she has to know, “Will the ban on questions be lifted someday?”

“We’ll see.”

Instead of prodding her for further answers, which she knew she would not get, she places a small kiss on the other girl’s knuckles. “S-Sorry if it stirs up bad memories. I know it was a stupid whim, I just…wanted to feel your _real_ touch, but-”

“I thought you would find them disgusting.” Edelgard blurts out. “This is… much of a relief, honestly.” 

Edelgard’s features soften and her shoulders finally come down from being hunched up near her ears with tension.

“Aw, do I seem that shallow?” the Goneril heir asks. When Edelgard’s mouth opens, Hilda quickly says, “Actually! Do not answer that. I want us to have a good start this morning, and I suspect your response may make me very cross with you.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Edelgard huffs. The mood has become significantly lighter as they settle back into their usual routine of arguing before breakfast. The normalcy is comforting. “Maybe I think more highly of you than you realize.”

Hilda snorts, “Yeah, uh-huh. What did you call me yesterday? A ‘ _lazybones_ ’ I think you said?”

Edelgard’s smile is innocent, “You immediately proved me wrong, did you not? You proceeded to show me just what a hard worker you can be.”

Hilda feels her face flush deeply at the veiled jab- yesterday during their usual late-afternoon bickering over who got to pick the tea, the princess had provoked her in some way or other that had ended with Hilda under the table servicing the future Emperor with her mouth.

She didn’t remember all the details of what exactly had led to it- she just remembered enjoying every second, _and_ her favorite flavor of tea prevailing over nasty Bergamot.

Also… with the newfound revelation of her scars- she finally understood why Edelgard had thus far adamantly refused to take her shirt off in front of her, while Hilda had thought it unfair that she had been the only one naked from the waist up.

Chances are, Edelgard’s chest was undoubtedly scarred too, and that was the reason for her apprehension on baring her body fully.

“Yeah- uh- well- you owe me for that! My poor knees got rug burn for my trouble.” Hilda can’t fight the blush any longer so she settles for fixing the other girl with a glare despite it.

Edelgard’s violet eyes quickly glance at the pair of gloves neatly folded on her lap and Hilda feels a warm buzz inside of her when she decides against putting them back on.

“Fine. Where were we?”

With the gloves forgotten, the Adrestian princess shoves her back down on the bed and straddles her hips, pushing her sleeping top back up just like earlier. She leans down to place feather-light kisses right below her jaw, almost tickling.

Her - _finally_ \- ungloved hands roam Hilda’s midriff, and _they’re cold_ for once, and Hilda does not mind one bit. No more barrier of cloth between them. Not that the gloves had been coarse or terrible -they were nice quality!- but they would certainly not be missed when Edelgard’s direct touch felt so good.

Edelgard’s blunt nails drag across her ribs making the Alliance noble shiver under her. Hilda rolls her hips impatiently which earns her a light nip to the shell of her ear, where Edelgard had been focusing her attentions after being done with her jaw.

Hilda groans. “Edelga-”

“Hold this,” Edelgard orders as she grabs the hem of the top and drags it all the way up for Hilda to bite down on, finally exposing her breasts to the morning light.

Obediently, she holds the material between her teeth and briefly wonders if it’s just a convenience thing or if Edelgard really just wants a makeshift gag.

Either way, Hilda quite literally cannot complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall enjoyed this one bc things are about to turn... Not Great. this is a bitter exes fic, after all.  
> 


	3. three

**3**

‘ _Fódlan's Locket is not a tourist attraction_ ’ is not something Hilda thought she would ever have to think, but Holst was unbelievable. She would need to sit him down and get it through his thick skull that the fortress was _not_ a place you wanted to drag guests over to see.

Her brother was _very_ excited to show the Imperial princess the result of the joint efforts of the Empire, Kingdom and Alliance in creating the colossal fortification all those years ago. 

He claimed that due to the cold, things had been ‘quiet’ and attacks from Almyra were ‘unlikely’, which _did not_ make Hilda feel even a tiny bit better.

Because of the cold, they had to travel by wyvern. Her brother had scraped by in Garreg Mach with a C grade in flying so he could ride one of the adult ones; he’d majored in the War Master class, so despite the relatively low grade it was still kind of impressive that he could ride one at all.

Hilda, however, had no such skill to speak of, even though she’d toyed with the idea of becoming a Wyvern Lord at the Officer’s Academy when the time came. It sounded like a lot of work and a lot of high grades. That was a problem for Future Hilda as far as she was concerned.

So Holst’s solution was that the two girls ride together in a baby wyvern, which required zero skill but made for a bumpy and uneven ride as the thing was probably learning to fly itself. 

Instead of keeping a close eye on them, Holst was having the time of his life diving between the clouds and racing with two of the guys from his personal guard as they made their way to the infamous Fódlan's Locket, and Hilda was starting to lose her mind a little.

The safest part of a wyvern was at the front, so naturally her demented brother had made her sit in the back to keep the future Emperor safe in case of an unfortunate accident. The rider’s chair was built to be as impractical as possible and since there was no proper handhold at the front, the one that was meant to be Hilda’s lifeline became Edelgard’s instead, who had to grip the harness at her back to stay balanced. 

All Hilda had was the scaly back of the beast and occasionally she had to resort to gripping Edelgard’s shoulders when the air currents got too strong.

They had to bundle up quite a bit because despite being several feet in the air the cold was unforgiving as ever. To Hilda’s great tragedy, one jerky movement from their baby dragon had resulted in her somehow losing one of her gloves, so she’d been sitting on top of her hand like a dumbass to keep it warm for the past few minutes with no end in sight.

 _Ah._ She may have a solution for both her freezing hand _and_ boredom problem.

She’d been leaving a little room in the rider’s chair, but suddenly Hilda closes the distance between them and presses herself against the other girl’s back. In one swift movement, she slips her hand inside Edelgard’s coat and under her sweater, evading all layers until cold fingertips grazed warm skin.

Edelgard immediately jerks at the feeling but is unable to twist herself around, “ _Ah_! C-Cold!”

“Lost m’glove,” Hilda mumbles, keeping one eye out in case her brother decided to pop in to say hi. With his cries of joy still a safe distance away, Hilda leans in close. “Hey. If you don’t make a sound, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Hilda-”

The Alliance noble maneuvers her hand so she can brush it over one of the other girl’s breasts, -no underclothes beyond the sweater layer, my, my!- and if Edelgard shivers from the coldness of it or from the thrill Hilda cannot tell.

“ _Hilda_ ,” this time her voice had a different pitch. A combination of both, she decides.

“Aw, that’s sound number two.” Hilda slips her hand over the sweater to spare the cold touch if Edelgard truly doesn’t like it, and traces the swell of her breast. “I’m calling it quits after three.”

She expects Edelgard to reprimand her for being so bold several feet in the air -and atop a wyvern! with her brother zipping around nearby!-, and is about to take her hand away when she realizes the other girl is pointedly _quiet_. 

A huge smile splits her face, and it’s a real shame that Edelgard can’t see it because she’s positive she’d hate the sheer smugness of it. Hilda obviously can’t see her face, but from her vantage point at her back she can see that the tips of the princess’ ears are red.

Feeling gutsy, her hand roams freely over Edelgard’s breasts, careful to avoid the scarred tissue at her sternum because she knew the other girl did not enjoy anything being done to her _there_. But it was totally okay, because obviously the pleasure points of the body lay elsewhere. 

Hilda’s hand has finally warmed up.

The Goneril girl nuzzles the back of Edelgard’s hair, fully aware of the effect that her next words would have on her, “ _Good girl_. Stay quiet.” 

It is a very amusing position to be in since Edelgard has to keep her hands at her back to keep steady, so Hilda pretty much has free access to the girl’s front. She brings her hand to the peak of Edelgard’s breast and tweaks it, eliciting a faint noise in the back of the future Emperor’s throat.

Just because she’s a bit of an asshole, Hilda hums in disapproval, “You were doing so well! I think I’m going to count that as a sound.”

The Alliance noble pulls out her hand to show she means it (she doesn’t). She greatly enjoys the way Edelgard vehemently shakes her head, and she sees the way her hands clench and unclench in desperation at the small of her back around the seat’s harness.

“Shucks, _okay_!” Hilda smirks, “But that was your last warning.”

Somewhere far, far away Holst is still whooping and clamoring with his guards atop the clouds, and Hilda has but one goal in mind: draw a proper sound from Edelgard before reaching the mountains of Fódlan's Throat.

She risks plummeting to her death by using her remaining hand to lower Edelgard’s scarf to reveal a strip of pale skin. Hilda proceeds to trail hot kisses down the side of her neck, and she _feels_ Edelgard almost crack judging by the tension of muscles beneath her lips. 

But no sound comes out.

Hilda redoubles her efforts in earnest, teasing like she never has before and using clever fingertips to wound the other girl up as much as possible. She keeps it interesting by suddenly removing her hand without warning once or twice to see if Edelgard would protest, but besides her heavy breathing hitching in irritation, she remains absolutely silent.

At one point, Edelgard lurches forward as if to put distance between the two, her shoulders shaking as she finally brings her arms to the front where there’s nothing to hold on to. Hilda brings her free arm forward to bracket her in.

However, the distance does next to nothing, as balance necessitated keeping her body mostly pressed against Hilda’s chest, and that same hand continued to wander around, groping her breasts or more recently, to cupping between her thighs.

The aforementioned strategy finally draws a reluctant cry from the princess that’s lost to the wind and ultimately Edelgard whimpers in defeat. Hilda coos at her ear not to worry, and she continues her movements with clever fingertips. She’s not a complete ass, she will allow her to finish-

Or perhaps the cry hadn’t been all that quiet because suddenly Holst Goneril himself materializes beside them out of thin air, “We doing okay over here?” he yells over the wind. 

Hilda immediately pulls her hand away as if burned, and she’s thankful that they’re all wearing bulky winter clothes that Holst probably -hopefully?- did not see. 

She did not want _or need_ the two men of her life meddling in her personal matters. Her father was mostly senile and she didn’t care that he saw them that one time, but Holst was another story.

“Yeah, all good!” Hilda calls back, if only because Edelgard seems to have gone mute for good. She shoves her hand inside her own coat before it falls off from frostbite after being violently snatched from the nice heat of Edelgard’s body.

“I’ve got a vulnerary if someone’s in pain!”

Hilda would laugh if she wasn't so mortified. He thought the source of Edelgard’s pitched noise was something else entirely. “Uh, nope. I’m okay.”

He squints from his place atop the massive amber-colored wyvern and points to her companion, “Is _she_ okay? Her face is all red. Lady Edelgard?”

She’d been trying to stifle her noises, but Edelgard is panting and her breaths are uneven. Hilda pats her on the back and offers her brother a tight smile, “It’s from the cold! And the altitude!”

She watches as Edelgard straightens in her seat, the tremor in her voice almost inaudible. “I’m simply not used to it, Lord Goneril. Thank you for your concern.”

“Ah, right. I forgot in Enbarr it doesn’t get this cold, heh. But we’re almost there! We’ll reach Fódlan's Locket in a few,” he gives them a thumbs-up and looks at their baby wyvern as if it understands him. “Prepare for landing!”

And he’s gone, disappearing away over a fluffy white cloud. Hilda suddenly feels sheepish, “ _Are_ you all good?”

Edelgard buries her face in her gloved hands, “He asked me if I needed a vulnerary.” 

“Well, it’s your fault for being so loud. I told you not to.”

After not seeing her face for what felt like hours, Edelgard completely twists around with narrowed violet eyes. “If you had refrained from teasing me so much-”

Ever the handy band-aid to an oncoming scolding, Hilda places a little kiss to the other girl’s indignant pout. Edelgard stammers, “Your brother-”

“-is out of sight and out of mind!” Hilda beams. Edelgard looks unconvinced, so Hilda kisses her again.

Their baby wyvern must have gotten extremely tired of their shenanigans on its backside, because it growls and gives a little shake, as if to say _cut it out_. Edelgard gets the hint and turns back around, but she settles her weight on Hilda, giving up on the awkward handhold behind her.

Edelgard places a hand above her brow to shield her eyes from the sun, “Is it as safe as your brother claims?”

“I mean, nobody knows. The eastern menace never rests, as they say.” After their earlier activities, the peaceful descent into the fortress feels like a downgrade in Hilda’s book.

Again she can’t see her face, but by now she knows Edelgard well enough to discern from her tone that the other girl isn’t pleased by the _eastern menace_ part. “I know they are different from us, but Almyrans are people too, you know.”

Hilda feels a hot flash of irritation at the remark- she knew that, duh! It’s not like Holst fought these people for fun! He was keeping their eastern border safe from invaders, just like his father before him, and their grandfather too, and literally every member of her family.

Instead of countering that with her own point of view (as she probably should have, for the sake of a healthy discussion) she lets it stew deep within her until it becomes just another one of her personal gripes that she will not vent.

She wondered if sometimes Edelgard did that too, just to avoid a fight.

She also wondered how long such a flimsy patch over inward bottled-up feelings could last.

* * *

Hilda should have known.

She should have known that when things are seemingly easy, they are bound to get stupidly, unbelievably hard if they are not built on a strong foundation. And the foundation of her relationship with Edelgard was _mostly_ based on their mutual physical attraction and loneliness, nothing with more substance, no _real_ legs to stand on.

Taking the easy path instead of building meaningful interactions had finally come to bite Hilda in the ass.

Things had been going suspiciously well for her, so it was only a matter of time before everything blew up in her face; which often happened when you didn’t work for or actually earn said things.

It could not be coincidental that the moment things started going south Hilda had been stuck doing a sucky activity: sorting her father’s books into alphabetical order. Luckily it was just the lone bookshelf in the living room, and not the grand library he housed in his private study, but still. 

Holst seriously was running out of ideas on how to waste her time.

It didn’t help that she’d made almost no progress because her mind constantly wandered up and away to a certain girl who was currently taking a much-needed nap in Hilda’s room. Usually Edelgard was strictly against such activities so close to nighttime, but she must have been especially tired to finally cave in and get some rest. 

Last night had been particularly bad on the nightmares front. It had been so bad, Hilda did not stop pestering her all day until she finally agreed to sleep it off if only to stop the unending scolding- for Hilda Goneril to scold you, you were seriously doing something wrong.

In a moment of mischief she considered simply hiding the bulk of the books at the back of the shelf and line up the rest in a neat row to cover her ruse, along the top and middle shelf so neither Holst nor their father noticed the few missing at the bottom. They were so _tall_ , she doubted they ever even looked down at anything below their eye level.

Her scheming was interrupted by someone hugging her from behind, “This looks about the same as it did two hours ago.”

Edelgard could rest her chin comfortably on her shoulder, given their 2cm (TWO CENTIMETERS!) height difference, which Hilda was still fuming about. She came from a family of literal giants, and she barely reached the 154cm mark! It gave her a slight comfort that she’d been told time and time again that her mother had been pretty small and dainty as well.

“You’re wrong,” she says in a singsong tone. “I sorted through the A’s and B’s already.”

She can practically feel Edelgard squinting at her work. “Um. I’m pretty sure you need to sort them by the author’s _last name_ , not by their first-”

Hilda feels the beginning of an aneurysm and she drops the book she’d been holding in her hand. “ _SON OF A_ -”

She is quickly placated by Edelgard placing a kiss to her temple, “Hey, now. I can give you a hand.” She lets go of Hilda’s waist and kneels down to pick up the fallen book. She blows on its spine and inspects the cover, “But _only_ until dinnertime. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Aw, you’re the best!” Hilda claps her hands together, “You should take daytime naps more often. It makes wonders for your mood.”

It earns her an eye roll from the princess, but the fond smile that accompanies it lets her know she’s not actually annoyed, and it makes Hilda’s chest flutter.

She starts pulling out the few books she’d ‘ _organized_ ’ because, all of that hard work had been for nothing, hadn’t it? She knew the Gloucester’s and Edmund’s kept their libraries the way Edelgard had described, but she didn’t know it was an universal thing to start by the author’s last name!

For a second she thinks Edelgard has joined her in reshuffling through the books, but she’s actually just standing beside her, gazing at something in the wall. 

“What is _that_?”

Puzzled, Hilda follows the Imperial noble’s line of sight until she can figure out what the heck is so interesting.

“ _Ah_ ,” Hilda wrinkles her nose. “That’s just Freikugel. The Heroes’ Relic of House Goneril.”

Holst occasionally took it out of the vault to leave it on display- _why_ he did so, she didn’t know. The thing was an eyesore.

Edelgard’s eyes are wide as she takes in the magical axe. Hilda had seen it so many times it had lost its otherworldly appeal long ago; goddess forbid her family learned this, but most of the time she considered it a hideous ornamentation and nothing more.

Seeing the wonder in the Imperial noble’s face reminded her that it was no ordinary thing, and that the average person lived and died without ever laying eyes on one of these weapons of legend. 

And her family’s was just… here. Chilling above the fireplace, clashing with the rest of the decour.

She feels an unmistakable thrum in her chest. _The impulse to show off_. Holst’s influence truly was inescapable. The books forgotten, she goes to stand beside Edelgard.

Hilda grins, “Would you like to give it a whirl?”

In the back of her mind, Hilda knew that if the Duke of Goneril suddenly walked in on a Hresvelg wielding their sacred weapon he would have no qualms about feeding his little sister to the Almyrans, but Hilda couldn’t resist. 

“I don’t have a Crest of Goneril like you do,” Edelgard reminds her, but as an axe user herself she seems to be dying to try it. “It could… hurt me.”

“Hmm. Only if you go ham with it during a battle and don’t stop using it, yeah. But if it’s just for a sec, I’m pretty positive whatever damage it does to you can be healed with a vulnerary.” Hilda says. 

A million years ago Holst’s friend Baltie lost a bet and had to fight her brother with Freikugel until first blood was drawn. The axe had looked awkward and out of place in his hands (despite him being, like, a bear of a man) and had seemingly worked against him. The Relic damaged him with every swing, draining him, until eventually he tired himself out and Holst was declared the winner.

Edelgard looks like she _really wants to_ but is really apprehensive about it (as she usually was about most things) so Hilda gets on her tiptoes and carefully removes the massive axe from its perch on the wall. 

Hilda did not like touching Freikugel. She could count in one hand how many times she’d been allowed to wield it. The thing occasionally pulsated with what Hilda prayed was energy from the crest stone at its center and nothing more sinister than that. The long handle was alright, made of a polished and dark material crafted with intricate detail. 

It was the head of the axe that was super gross.

It reminded her of a Wyvern’s spiky back, specifically the way their draconian spines arched as they flew was eerily similar to the curvature of the axe. To the untrained eye, it may even look a bit brittle because the material it was made of is impossible to place, but Hilda had seen firsthand that the thing could split entire boulders in half and shatter even steel. 

It was _that_ stupid powerful.

Hilda knew that, objectively speaking, the weapon was very heavy and yet she handled it with such ease it felt like it was custom made just for her. Which was dumb because she knew that in reality it had been passed down her bloodline for hundreds of years after her Ten Elite’s ancestor got it originally.

She almost dropped it when the pulsing began and the feeling traveled all the way up her arm but she held fast. Edelgard was crowding around her _ohhing_ and _ahhing_ , admiring the craftsmanship of it.

Her gloved hand traced the bone-like material, careful to avoid the sharp end. Against her better judgement, Hilda offers the pommel to the princess.

She hesitates for maybe two seconds before accepting the legendary weapon.

And there, in the middle of their vast living room, Edelgard turns and gives an experimental swing across empty air. It goes okay until the momentum makes her lose her balance. Thank the goddess, she catches herself before the head of it can slam into the ground and leave a crater in the floorboards that would be a nightmare to explain, much to Hilda’s relief.

“Whoa, it’s- it’s kind of heavy,” the Adrestian says, and it must be so because Hilda knows the other girl has a lot of might, but to her Freikugel has always felt just right. And because its _Edelgard_ , she adds her nerdy little quip, “This definitely requires high skill… perhaps the same as a Killer Axe or a Short Axe…”

Edelgard suddenly grimaces- _oh_ , she was paying the price for wielding the weapon without the proper Crest. Taking a little damage to her overall health. She takes the axe from her to avoid it causing any more harm, but before Hilda can offer to go grab a vulnerary real quick, something strange happens.

A gold symbol pops out and materializes right above Edelgard. Hilda was not unfamiliar with the sight- it meant that a Crest was activating.

From the look of relief that washes over Edelgard, it is a healing one.

And it is in that very moment that Hilda will be able to look back on and pinpoint exactly Where it All Went Wrong.

She’s just being casual when she asks, “What Crest do you have, anyway, Edelgard?”

In Fódlan, among nobles, she might as well have asked about the weather. It was common. It was not remotely controversial to inquire about. And yet… 

And yet Edelgard’s face contorted in such a way that Hilda had to do a double take and rewind her brain to see if she’d accidentally asked her to fork over her birthright and make Hilda Emperor to warrant such a response. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hilda does not like the sudden _wrath_ burning in Edelgard’s eyes at such an innocuous question. “I only asked about your Crest? It’s not a big deal.”

“I will not respond to that,” Edelgard’s lip curls in a snarl, “And you shouldn’t ask people such personal matters.”

 _Personal_? Crests were public knowledge! Hilda would bet good money that _at least_ ten of the books in this mess of a pile were on the subject alone.

Usually, Hilda would just swallow her own anger down and try to compromise with the sometimes volatile noble. She would be accomodating, and agreeable, and bend to Edelgard’s will to avoid conflict. 

It had been working the last few weeks, but Hilda… she had reached her limit. Her usual mean girl streak was back with a vengeance in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but in this world we live in people _can_ and _will_ ask about your Crest,” Hilda leaves Freikugel on the floor to rest against the wall -it was almost as tall as she was!- as she folds her arms, “You’re seriously overreacting!”

“Then perhaps it is the tradition of this world that is in the wrong,” Edelgard counters, and her eyes glitter dangerously. “Crests are to blame for this brutal, irrational world we live in.”

Hilda shrugs, “I was only _asking_ , yeesh! I don’t want _or_ need a lecture-”

“But _why_ must you ask? Would you treat me any differently if you learned it was a Major one, a Minor one?” Edelgard’s defensiveness is so sudden Hilda almost gets whiplash, “Why must you place so much value on a genetic accident people cannot help?”

Their fight is now escalating like no other had before. Going by the regular guideline she’d been using as means of dealing with her Imperial Highness, they should have been making out in the couch by now to avoid confrontation, albeit with the argument left unresolved and the resentment building without acknowledging it... leaving it to fester.

Such a strategy was blowing up in her face, at long last.

“You’re correct, it _is_ a genetic accident! A happy one! You can’t help if you’re born with a crest. You also cannot remove it. And if you aren’t born with one, tough luck! You can’t just buy one from the store,” Hilda says. “It’s just the way Fódlan works. Sorry to be your rude awakening.”

Edelgard rubs at her temples, her irritation evergrowing. “How dare you call it a happy accident. Do you know how many children are cut off by their families for not having one? How many Houses simply die out because they cannot bear the idea of carrying on without it? It’s people like you that uphold this system blindly who are the problem.”

Hilda stomps her foot, her patience wearing thin with every second of this, “I don’t have some _hidden agenda_ , Edelgard! Stop being so crazy! Your Crest healed you, I saw, I got curious- that’s literally all there is to it!” 

“Unsurprisingly, you’re missing the point,” Edelgard shakes her head in that disappointed way of hers that Hilda loathes. “I urge you to look at the bigger picture.”

“Oh, _do share_ with the class what the point is,” Hilda narrows her eyes until they’re practically slits.“Because you’re acting like crests personally killed your family dog or something.”

Edelgard looks like she’s been punched in the gut, and Hilda _does not understand_. Whatever she said, it must have some deep meaning for Edelgard; something personal that she has experienced in her bones alone that Hilda can’t possibly fathom.

She starts to feel guilt gnaw at her stomach at the wounded look on the other girl’s face, despite not knowing exactly why her words had such an impact, but Edelgard strikes back and quickly masks her face with a cold stare, “ _The point is_ that I have been too lax in my standards of people I associate with, and perhaps it is time to correct that oversight.”

“Edelgard, can you maybe _breathe_ for a sec and think this through?” as a last-ditch attempt, Hilda tries to be reasonable. “I promise you asking about some dumb crest is not part of some big conspiracy-”

But the shake of Edelgard’s head is dismissive and her eyes are steely, “This isn’t some isolated event, Hilda. It’s a buildup from weeks and weeks. I’ve let a lot of things slide for the sake of enjoying your company.” She takes a ragged breath, “But your ignorance towards Almyrans, your attachment to this crest system that literally kills people, and not to mention your piss-poor work ethic, among other things, is just not compatible with who I am.”

Now it’s Hilda’s turn to feel like she’s been smacked upside the head. _Wow_ , talk about being blindsided. 

In the grand scheme of things, she really shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as she had her own issues and dislikes regarding Edelgard von Hresvelg, but it’s not like she hurled them in the other girl’s face in broad daylight. She simply pushed it all down, and ignored it, for the sake of-

 _Of enjoying her company_ , yeah, she could see where Edelgard was coming from. She wasn’t, like, _in love_ with her or anything, but she certainly had grown to care a great deal for the future Emperor of Adrestia. Maybe this was doomed from the start.

Regardless of her inner reflection, Hilda was still seeing red.

The Goneril girl wraps her arms around her own body, hugging herself, “So you inherently hate much of who I am as a person... to absolutely nobody’s surprise. Fair.” 

Edelgard scoffs, “I by no means _hate_ you-”

Hilda barrels on, “Now that your little circus is over, will you at least explain what the big deal is in asking about your Crest?” She pins Edelgard with a glare. “Is this an Enbarr thing or are you just batshit?”

Violet eyes glare right back, “What part of _don’t put so much weight on people’s crests_ did you not understand?”

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me.” Hilda’s sudden smile is icy, “All I have to do is look up that symbol in any crest book, or… or just ask my brother what Crest is passed down the Hresvelg line. Will take me five minutes, tops.”

Edelgard barks out a laugh, and it is a cruel one. “All winter I can’t get you to read _one_ book to save your life, but suddenly you’re a crest scholar? That’s rich.” 

But Hilda catches the slight panic in her voice. 

She toys with the idea of reaching for a random book with a determined look on her face, just to mess with Edelgard and see how she would react -would she try to destroy the book?- but her thoughts are interrupted by Holst’s booming voice, “Girls! Dinner is ready!”

*** * ***

The tension at the table is palpable, and that’s an understatement.

Hilda thanks the goddess internally for the fact that her dad opted to have dinner in his room, which is not unusual in his ripe old age. It would spare him the mess that this was bound to be. 

They hadn’t said a word to each other since sitting down, but Edelgard’s hands were actually shaking around her fork and Hilda could not stop pushing her buttery food around her plate instead of eating it. 

When Holst returns from personally delivering their father his meal, he raises an eyebrow at his sister, “You haven’t touched your fish! It’s your favorite! Are you feeling unwell?”

It was true, and it was a shame, because tonight she’d been treated to two-fish saute and Hilda could not bring herself to take one bite. 

The delicious but rare meal for Alliance standards hails from the Imperial Capital, and since the future head of state from that place was currently sitting across from her and looking sullen, it felt like it would be wrong to enjoy it.

When Holst places a calloused palm to her brow to check for a fever, she slaps his hand away, “ _I’m perfectly fine!_ ” she snaps.

Holst was the type to get worried instead of angry at an outburst like that, and his features cloud with concern. His whole face immediately shifts into that of an overprotective older brother. He opens his mouth and Hilda feels like she might lose it, but before he can see right through her, Lord Arundel joins them.

 _Never_ in her life did she think that she would be even remotely grateful for his presence, but he saves her bacon. 

The older man leaves his fancy travel cloak by the door before taking his place beside his niece. From Edelgard’s body language, his arrival only increases her miserable expression tenfold.

Reluctantly Holst drops the subject to entertain his guest instead. Hilda forces in a couple of bites if only for the sake of keeping appearances, but she’s on edge. Instead of tasting delicious Herring, her favorite food tastes like ash in her mouth.

Just as she starts feeling a little stir-crazy from being alone with her thoughts, she heeds another stupid impulse that jumps at the front of her brain.

“Hey, Holst, d’you know which crests can heal their user?” Everyone turns to look at her. 

It was rare for either Hilda or Edelgard to get a word in in these uncomfortable dinners. They usually ate as fast as possible to retreat to Hilda’s room at the first available opportunity, so it certainly was out of character for her to actually engage.

“Oh, boy, don’t put me on the spot like that!” But her brother smiles good-naturedly, “Hanneman would _not_ be pleased if I fail on this one, let me think…”

She knew Hanneman had been one of his professors at Garreg Mach back in the day, but what he had to do with crests she had no idea. 

Holst snaps his fingers as his brilliant mind gets to work, “The Crest of Riegan of course, passed down by our beloved leader...err, oh! My buddy Balthus was healed after he dished out particularly strong hits thanks to his Crest of Chevalier. Hm, feels like I’m missing one…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way Edelgard’s whole body tenses, her eyes wide with… with fear? Hilda starts to feel somewhat bad, but at the same time she refuses to feel awful when the other girl simply will not explain herself; she was even more sick of the secrecy.

Lord Arundel clears his throat before Holst can name the last one, “May I ask what brought this on?”

Edelgard’s jaw is tightly clenched, “Uncle, don’t-”

Hilda jumps at her chance, “I’m just curious because Edelgard is, like, dead-set on not telling me what her Crest is.”

As expected, Holst looks confused- for why would anyone refuse to answer such a simple request? 

Lord Arundel, on the other hand, looks positively _livid_. Hilda almost winces at the dark look that distorts his face.

His withering glare makes his niece shrink in her seat, “ _What did you do_?”

Regret fills her entire being faster than it took her to ask her stupid questions. Hilda wants nothing more than to leap across the table to put herself between Edelgard and Volkhard’s venomous stare.

_She should have kept her mouth shut, she should have kept her mouth shut, she-_

“Now, now,” sensing the spike in hostility, Holst straightens in his seat and takes on the serious _Duke of Goneril_ voice he usually uses at the roundtable. “No need for that tone, nor for the intimidation. Now, Hilda may not be the most pertinent-”

“ _Hey_!”

“-but her question is valid,” he gestures at the two Adrestians, how the older man is practically towering over her cowering niece, “If Edelgard doesn’t feel comfortable in sharing, that’s okay. But I mean- the Hresvelg crest is public knowledge. Well-documented fact. So if Hilda does her homework she is bound to learn the truth.”

But Lord Arundel doesn’t seem to hear him. He grabs Edelgard’s arm and hisses, “We will discuss this later.”

Holst’s eyes narrow at the harsh exchange but he gives up on being a mediator. He briefly glances at his sister instead to ask, “If you want to know about the Hresvelg crest so bad, why ask about the healing ones? The Crest of Seiros is not related.”

And _that’s_ when everything falls apart.

“We are leaving,” Lord Arundel practically leaps from his seat, making them all flinch from the way the chair screeches against the wood, “ _Immediately_.”

She should feel smug at learning that Edelgard’s super-secret crest is the Seiros one, but what she feels is closer to despair with an overall layer of _confusion_. If what Holst said was true, and the Seiros crest was not a healing one, then how had Edelgard…

There is no time to ponder it for long, because Lord Arundel calls for his guards and his weird mage with the weird mask (Hilda shudders, for the first time noticing that the trio seems to always be lurking in the shadows, never far from their master) and barks his instructions to depart at once.

Holst looks stunned by the abruptness of it all, but still tries to reason with this lunatic, “My Lord, it is very late and the roads are not safe from bandits and monsters. Please reconsider-”

“I will not,” the older man says. As an afterthought, he waves his hand impatiently at Edelgard’s deflated form. “Pack your belongings posthaste. We are going as soon as the horses are ready.”

She’d never seen the princess look so… meek. She obeys her uncle’s command without arguing, disappearing inside their shared room.

Hilda follows.

*** * ***

“ _Edelgard_ ,” Hilda hates how pleading her voice is. “I-I didn’t know… mainly because you _never explain_ , but…” she takes a deep breath and keeps the resentment at bay, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She stands inappropriately close considering all that happened in the span of a few hours, but the other girl doesn’t tell her off. Hilda just wants to relish the last few moments that they will ever stand together in this room.

Edelgard had been hastily shoving her clothes into her traveling case, and she pauses to look at her. For a second, her eyes look remorseful, “You’re right. Without all the information, you can’t measure the consequences of your actions. Perhaps I was very open in some things and very private on others.”

Hilda feels a glimmer of something like hope, “Exactly.”

But Edelgard’s face hardens again. “It still does not change what I said before. We are just too different, Hilda. I am sorry.” 

Their whirlwind of a relationship ended just as fast as it had started, and they were basically back to square one: attracted to the other but pretty mad about it.

Her previous words hit Hilda all over again: about how she was ignorant, and comfortable under the status quo, and lest anyone forget _lazy_. That word had haunted her for her entire life- not that she disagreed, but she despised how it was always weaponized against her.

Hilda’s voice cracks, “I suppose I’ll just never be good enough for her Imperial Highness, huh?”

She sees the white glove coming towards her face and recoils from the touch. Edelgard withdraws it. “Please don’t cry.”

The uncomfortable heat behind her eyes announces the inevitable waterworks, but she stubbornly prevents them from falling. 

She doesn’t want to look at Edelgard. She doesn’t want to see the concern on her face or those stupid purple ribbons on her hair. She wants her gone.

Hilda turns on her heel. “See you at Garreg Mach.” 

“Hilda, wait.”

During their time together, the Alliance noble had come to be very proficient at following Edelgard’s every instruction, but that’s over now. 

If her gaze found hers, the tears would overwhelm her and that’s not the last memory she wanted Edelgard to have of her. So she leaves.

She doesn’t look back.

*** * ***

They leave from just the way they’d come. From the main road, over the hill.

Hilda waits until the Imperial party is just a splash of black in the horizon before joining Holst at its very top, who was actually the only one there to see them off. She hugs his beefy arm and sniffles.

Graciously, he does not comment on the wetness of her cheeks. “Off they go.”

“Off they go,” she echoes. 

Four of the figures blend together inconsequentially, but there is no mistaking the white head of hair between them. It’s very hard to see in the dark, but her hair did always seem to glow in the moonlight.

She’s surprised when her brother breaks the comfortable silence between them.

“Wilhem the First of his name fought alongside Seiros in the War of Heroes against Nemesis, ya know, the so-called King of Liberation.” With his free hand, Holst smooths down her hair. “She gifted him the Crest of Seiros through her blood, and that started House Hresvelg as we know it. Since she’s the heir, Edelgard bears that crest.”

She’s glad that he can’t see her face and that she can’t see his. “Thank you. Now I don’t have to read the book.”

Her brother’s chuckle is warm. “Ah, you got me there. Still, you should flip through. Perhaps you’ll find the last healing Crest because I cannot for the life of me remember it. The Riegan and Chevalie crests are found in Alliance nobles- but this last one I’m almost certain is not.”

Hilda squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to think. She doesn’t want to pursue this mystery further, mostly because it makes no sense. She’d _seen_ Edelgard’s crest displayed right before her very eyes. Everyone and their mother knew what the symbol of Seiros looked like, and the two did not look the same, not even close. 

Edelgard’s healing crest was a different one.

The revelation makes her feel colder than the biting of the wind at the top of their little hill. 

Nobody in the world was born with two crests. She was no expert, but she knew _that_ much.

The only logical conclusion, the only version she would accept in her head, was that the Emperor was not Edelgard’s true father. Perhaps she was adopted, or the product of an affair of her mother? 

But… if the Emperor _was_ her father? What then? What in the blazes had she witnessed mere hours ago? If it was a prank, then everything that entailed the Adrestian princess truly was beyond her mortal comprehension. Plus, no prank could have ever resulted in her uncle reacting the way he did.

Hilda decides to numb her brain to the subject entirely until further notice. 

She tightens her grip on his arm, “Can we heat up some two-fish saute? I’m hungry.”

“Of course.” 

Arm-in-arm, with Hilda still hiding her face in the crook of his, they let their Imperial guests blend into the darkness never to be seen again.

For a blessed moment, Hilda thinks she’s off the hook, but as they start trudging down the hill and back to the manor, Holst says, “Why didn’t you say she was your girlfriend?”

“Ugh. Holst-”

“I’m not blind… or deaf,” she feels Holst’s eyes burning a hole through the top of her skull and she refuses to look up at him. His tone is suddenly sad, “Did you think I wouldn’t approve?”

“Have you ever approved of _any_ of my dating choices?” she deflects.

Holst’s small chuckle is soft, “The future Emperor of Adrestia is certainly an upgrade from your usual scoundrels, I’ll give you that.”

She feels her affection for her brother bubble up inside her until it is almost on par with how miserable she’s feeling. She sighs, but it’s shaky, “I don’t know why I didn’t mention it. It’s not because I was _scared_ , if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good, good. Ah… I sure hope things aren’t too awkward in school.”

 _Fuck_. She’d been so busy wallowing in self-pity, she momentarily forgot all about the upcoming year. They would be seeing eachother again, way sooner than Hilda would like.

“Dad knew.” She blurts out, if only to stop torturing herself over what was to come at Garreg Mach Monastery.

“You trusted him and _not me?_?” Holst gasps.

Hilda finally looks up to see the mock-offense on his face and his goofy features finally allow her to give him a small smile. “It’s actually a funny and kind of mortifying story. He walked in on us-”

“-being indecent?”

“ _Yup_.”

His eyes widen almost comically, “Oh, you’ve _got to_ tell me the whole story!”

They’re about halfway down the hill, and Hilda lets go of his arm.

“Race you to the bottom?”

She doesn’t wait for his answer before sprinting faster than she ever has in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i don’t know if im gonna include cindered shadows bc i’m still trying to finish azure moon (dimitri has no rights.) and i don’t wanna start the side story without at least finishing the main 3 routes buuut the Abyss would make for some prime content soo i’ll see if i can get my shit together and finish both!
> 
> if i do include the DLC the timeline may get wonky but whomst cares right??


	4. four

**4**

Edelgard’s first day at the Officer’s Academy in the Garreg Mach Monastery was going suspiciously alright.

Orientation, along with the overall tour of the grounds had been fine. She had finally met the other members of the Black Eagle House, and was able to place many faces on the children of the Ministers that served her father, along with others who were absolute newcomers, but she was pleased with the roster nonetheless. 

They all seemed to hold great potential for their class, and she liked that not _all of them_ favored magic as was common for the Black Eagles House. Edelgard herself was an axe user, breaking from the norm… then again, she did plan to break from the norm in more ways than one.

The Professor who would be teaching the class had not been assigned as of yet. She hoped the sword instructor Jeritza would be assigned to her House for obvious reasons. Considering who he was, he would certainly be an enabler for everything she hoped to achieve by the year’s end.

Who she was determined to avoid was Hanneman von Essar. She’d only seen the older man briefly when Seteth had introduced the House Leaders to the faculty, but she had not missed the way his piercing blue eyes had settled on her and not the other two. Perhaps it was because of his history with Empire nobility, but she was not willing to risk it being literally anything related to her crests. She would make it her sole duty to avoid that infamous crest scanner of his, whatever the cost.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind of introductions, but she did manage to get a glimpse of the one person she was anxious about meeting again.

Hilda Valentine Goneril. 

She wasn’t dense. She knew perfectly well that their paths would cross again, at the Officer’s Academy. In fact, Hilda’s ominous last words to her had been just that. This very fact had been tormenting her at night for the last couple of weeks. 

She had not talked to her yet. Or made so much as eye contact, really. She had stolen but a measly glance at the Golden Deer table between tours, and she didn’t exactly get a good look, but it was enough to have Edelgard’s stomach churning in a way that was annoyingly distracting.

Hilda’s attention was monopolized by Claude von Riegan and the rest of her new classmates… but mostly by Claude. The Imperial princess tried not to dwell on how the two had the same type of easy smile and certain spark to their eyes, or how much the future Leader of the Alliance was making Hilda laugh in a way Edelgard never had in their weeks together.

Hubert was the only soul that knew about Edelgard’s history with Hilda. Of course, he was privy to what was strictly necessary. He had even given his indirect blessing for the relationship seeing as he had not materialized into the Duchy of Goneril to immediately put an end to it.

The heir of the Marquisate of Vestra apparently thought he was very funny, because on the series of reports he gave her on students of note, all that was written on Hilda’s was “ _You tell me_.” 

Whoever said Hubert did not have a sense of humor was sorely mistaken.

Edelgard hadn’t technically asked for the aforementioned reports, but Hubert did always have a knack for anticipating her past and future needs in a way that was scarily accurate. They made for very entertaining reading material if anything.

The Empire noble felt her ears go hot and the urge to rip out Hilda’s page on her retainer’s well-put papers almost overwhelmed her, but she let it be. She’d been poring over his meticulous reports inside the privacy of her room for over an hour after Seteth finally let them go to explore and get settled.

She promised the rest of the Black Eagles she would meet up with them for dinner after her afternoon exercise with the three other leaders was done, but meanwhile she wanted to get some intel to pass the time until then. 

Dimitri’s profile report was particularly hard to digest, given their shared mother and everything that followed after, as well as her conflicting memories (or lack thereof) regarding the Kingdom’s prince, so she barely skimmed through it to avoid the headache that would surely follow.

To her great disappointment, Claude’s was practically blank, with Hubert’s careful handwriting apologizing for the fact in the margin of the page, and a promise ( _threat_?) to do better in the future. 

Edelgard was fairly sure Hilda had been bluffing when she’d boasted about having information on the Riegan heir all those weeks ago when she’d won her bed back in the ridiculous armwrestling bet, but now she wondered if maybe she was not so full of shit after all. 

Maybe she did miss out on some juicy stuff.

Voices outside her door interrupt her reading time. Edelgard pushes herself off the bed and tucks away her intel safely under the mattress before approaching the door that led to the hallway.

She pokes her head out and freezes.

A tall girl with a sweet face hidden behind blue bangs was hugging herself as a much shorter one with her back to Edelgard went on and on about something.

Edelgard pushes down the gasp that threatened to burst from her lips.

She would recognize that shade of pink anywhere.

Unlike earlier, she made sure to get a good look this time. Hilda’s uniform style was similar to that of the princess of Brigid, but with its own quirks and modifications, making it unique. Hers hugged Hilda’s curves in all the right places in a way that Petra’s simply didn’t, and the embroidery in her skirt was more elaborated as well as the overall flair of it.

Edelgard had come up with a thousand different scenarios of how their official reunion post-breakup would or could go, but none included the scene before her very eyes. An increasingly loud discussion outside her room was certainly NOT in the top ten contenders.

“ _Pleeease_? Trade rooms with me?”

Edelgard’s eyes darted to the pink cases and bags piled high outside the room right beside hers, and at the unmistakable yellow tones of the room inside. 

A Golden Deer’s room.

_Ah._

Out of all the cruel cosmic jokes that the archbishop could play on her, putting Hilda’s room _right next to Edelgard’s_ had to be one of her best. Objectively speaking, she knew Rhea probably had no hand in the room arrangements of the students, or knew about her particular situation regarding Hilda, but the slight against her was quite funny regardless.

The taller girl wrung her hands together, looking from side to side as if searching for someone to save her in the empty hallway.

Well, she was in luck.

Edelgard gathered her courage and cleared her throat before approaching the duo. “Hilda.”

She watched, almost in slow motion, at the way the pink-haired girl’s shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice. Almost cautiously, she turned on her heel to face Edelgard. The Adrestian tried to mask her emotions, but her heart still did an uncomfortable flip in her ribcage when their eyes met. 

Hilda looked the exact same, yet different, which she knew made no sense. 

Somehow during their time apart, she had lost the last of the baby fat on her cheeks, so her face was finally settling into that perfect bone structure beneath. Regarding things that remained unchanged, Hilda’s lashes still fanned out in a way that was almost cat-like, with a familiar tilt to her smile that was unfairly attractive.

However, her smile right now was not sincere in the slightest.

“Oh, hi, neighbor! And a Black Eagle, too!” Hilda’s smile did not reach her eyes, not by a long shot. “Didn’t see ya there. Is spying on private conversations, like, normal in the Empire?”

“ _Hilda_!” the other girl’s voice was panicked upon noticing the regalia in Edelgard’s uniform, “ _T-That’s the Imperial princess_!”

Hilda’s eyes widened in mock surprise, “Oh, is she? No way! Please, forgive me. If it’s the Imperial princess doing the eavesdropping then it’s totally okay.” She curtseyed in the most ridiculous way possible, greatly exaggerating the whole movement.

All of the Ethereal Moon Edelgard had wondered what their interactions would be like, and if they would acknowledge their shared past at all. From Hilda’s reaction, apparently the way they would be playing this would be as complete strangers. 

Edelgard tried not to let it sting.

“HILDA!” the blue-haired girl looked on the verge melting into a puddle of sheer mortification. She pulled Hilda up from her mock curtsy, which had almost reached the floor. 

“No offense taken,” Edelgard gave Hilda’s companion a reassuring smile, determined that she would not fall for provocations. She decided to pointedly ignore Hilda’s childish display, and opted for politeness. “It looks like we will be sharing the second floor.” 

To put her at ease, she followed by saying, “My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

The taller girl inclined her head, “M-Marianne. Marianne von Edmund.”

From Hilda’s mildly petulant expression, it seemed that she did not want to play along to the game she had started in the first place and ‘introduce’ herself. After the pause became too lengthy, the shy girl mumbled, “And, um, since you called her by name, I-I suppose you already know Hilda…”

She raised her voice at the end as if asking a question, but before either could get another word in, Edegard quickly changed the subject, directing her own question at Hilda, “May I ask why you are bullying a fellow Golden Deer into trading rooms with you?”

Clearly the proposal stemmed from Hilda refusing to room next to Edelgard out of spite, but for some twisted reason she just wanted to hear the other girl flat out admit it. 

Hilda put a hand to her chest, indignation making her mouth curve down. “Actually, I think _you’re_ the one bullying _me_ , Lady Edelgard.”

Edelgard would have laughed if she wasn’t becoming so increasingly annoyed. She arched an eyebrow instead, “How so?”

The Imperial princess knew she had been the one to end things with Hilda. She knew it perfectly well. 

But it still hurt. 

“To be honest with you, I’m feeling a little bullied right now.” Hilda leaned against the wall, arms folded. “I don’t wanna live next to a _bully_.”

Edelgard’s resolve not to fall for provocations was slipping through her fingers faster than quicksand. “I fail to see how my question is remotely close to _bullying_ -”

Hilda tilted her head in the Edmund girl’s direction, “Asking for a room change isn’t bullying. Right, Marianne?”

Marianne looked like she would rather be anywhere else than in the middle of their crossfire at that moment, but she answered, “R-Right.”

“Now, inserting yourself into other people’s conversations... _and_ with unwanted input? Now _that_ is some prime bullying right there.” Hilda’s eyes bore into distraught brown ones, “Right, Marianne?”

The poor Alliance noble looked between them, slightly amused by their overly-familiar dynamic yet puzzled by how in the world the only Goneril daughter was getting away with speaking to the future Emperor in such a flippant way. 

“No?” was what she finally decided to go with.

“ _Wrong_ ,” Hilda said in that sing-song tone Edelgard had adored once upon a time, but now felt like nails against chalkboard. Her gaze landed on her once more, “I want a room change because I don’t really like my current living situation all that much.”

Hilda is trying to be nonchalant about it, but Edelgard is keenly aware that this is deeply, fundamentally _personal_. The Goneril girl does _not_ want their rooms to be beside each other. 

Now, Edelgard would usually be above interfering in such petty matters, but she did not like that the target of Hilda’s insistence was probably the meekest and most timid girl in all of Garreg Mach. Maybe even more so than her own House’s Bernadetta. She tried to convince herself that protecting Marianne was the reason for her meddling and not anything else.

“They’re all the same, Hilda,” Edelgard matches her earlier expression with an insincere smile of her own. “Your room is the exact same as Marianne’s here, and everyone else’s.”

“Hmm… that’s- that’s true,” the Edmund girl gave a tiny nod. “Unless… y-you want to, um, be next to the Blue Lion’s girl?”

Edelgard knew one of Dimitri’s childhood friends -it had to be Ingrid, if she recalled correctly from Hubert’s diagram on the subject- was the only girl from the Blue Lions that had been assigned quarters on the second floor.

The smile Hilda reserved for Marianne was one of her real ones, “Exactly! I have no problem rooming next to you, Marianne. The thing is, I want to be surrounded by friends- no offense to you, Ms. Hresvelg, ma’am,- so having this other girl on my left would be absolutely perfect for me.”

Edelgard had actually seen Ingrid on their floor during orientation hanging around her whole pack -the flirty Gautier heir, the sulky son of Lord Rodrigue and Dimitri himself- and Hilda had been nowhere near them to claim something as significant as _friendship_.

“Oh, really?” Edelgard did not let the blatant lie deter her from making a petty move, “What’s her name?”

The smile slipped right off Hilda’s face. “You know, she’s- she’s blonde.” 

“She is blonde indeed. But her _name_?”

Hilda blinked slowly. “Dimitr _a_?”

Edelgard had been determined to be as stoic as possible but she could not help the small laugh that was ripped from her chest without permission, immediately followed by a small ache that could only mean bad news. 

Oh, she missed Hilda. She really did. 

Before the Alliance noble could dig her hole of lies even deeper, said girl’s eyes suddenly widened at something -or rather, _someone_ \- behind Edelgard. 

Judging from the familiar yet eerie presence, it was none other than Hubert. She did not feel the need to turn around to confirm this.

Marianne seemed just as startled as Hilda, who had taken the taller girl by the arm. “ _Gah_! Where did the crypt keeper come from?!”

She could not see Hubert’s face at his usual place beside her and one step behind, but his tone was slightly amused when he replied, “Hm. You must be Hilda. You’re kind of a pipsqueak, are you not? Strange that you are related to the mighty Duke of Goneril.”

“ _Oh_ , I’ll show you mighty-”

“This is Hubert von Vestra,” Edelgard cut in before the older boy could get an axe to the face. “My personal retainer.”

Realization dawns on Hilda’s face- it must have been weird for her to finally be able to put a face to the recipient of so many of her letters, and someone Edelgard had often talked about. 

Before she could make another remark about Hubert’s general appearance -and Edelgard _knew_ Hilda wanted to from the way she looked him up and down with her nose scrunched up-, her most trusted ally inclined his head towards her.

“Lady Edelgard, it appears the preparations for your upcoming training exercises with the other House Leaders have been completed,” he says, “I’m told you will depart shortly.”

Edelgard knew that by _preparations_ , he meant that the ambush involving the bandit Kostas was ready. She was not too sure about the brute of a man, but her uncle had insisted that they try to eliminate Dimitri and Claude as soon as possible to avoid future problems altogether.

“I’m afraid I must be going,” she tells the two girls. Despite her reluctance, she forces steady eye contact with Marianne, “Seteth said room trades are not allowed, and don’t let this one tell you any different.”

Hilda scoffs, “That’s _so_ not true! You’re making that up!”

She knows it is unbecoming, but she smiles sweetly at Hilda in the same fake manner the other girl had been doing to her all throughout this exchange. “I certainly look forward to keeping things just the way they are. See you around, neighbor.”

Edelgard enjoys the way the glare in Hilda’s eyes is diminished by the slight upwards cant to her lips, as if accepting a challenge. She nods her farewell to the Golden Deer girls and steps past them, with Hubert never far behind her.

When they think she’s out of earshot, Edelgard smiles slightly at the banter that ensues...

“She’s the Imperial princess, Hilda... I-I don’t think I can…”

“You’re not even _Adrestian_ , Marianne, she can’t give _you_ any orders! Or any of us! She’s just the bossy type-”

“B-But…”

She got the feeling Hilda would not be getting her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is much shorter than originally planned, but ive been playing animal crossing SOOO.  
> also i did a couple of chapters of cindered shadows from the DLC and maybe i'll add it to this story not sure yet but i love balthus and constance a lot!


	5. five

**5**

What Edelgard hated most was losing control.

And from that first day at the Academy, things and events and even _people_ had been constantly wrestled out of her control for the better or for worse.

Regarding the “for the better” she definitely meant her fateful meeting with Byleth Eisner.

Not only had they saved her from Kosta’s flying axe that would have surely ended her life when the man went rogue on that one failed mission with the other house leaders, but the skillful mercenary had quickly become the teacher for the Black Eagle’s House, as well as one of the pillars of her life.

Claude von Riegan was quite the enigma, but he did not come _close_ to their teachers’ mystery origins. Sure, they were Captain Jeralt’s child, and around twenty years old, but besides a nickname and a couple of stories Hubert had not even come close to any type of useful information, much to his (and her) frustration.

Despite that, Edelgard could not help but believe in the Professor with everything she had. Sure, they were a little odd and certainly socially awkward, but their brilliance as a mentor far outweighed their personality quirks.

Their presence certainly helped her mitigate the storm of emotions that assaulted her every time she laid eyes on a certain girl from the Golden Deer. Actually, that was inaccurate- she did not even have to be _looking_ at Hilda for the inevitable distraction to set in.

To her eternal annoyance, Dorothea had noticed. She’d pestered and badgered Edelgard until she reluctantly explained why she went red in the face every time the pink-haired girl so much as breathed her way. 

Edelgard had come up with a half-baked explanation that the break up had been mutual, with no hard feelings ( _ha_!). 

There was no way she could tell Dorothea that, in reality, the discovery of her two crests had been at stake, and that they were fundamentally different people with clashing personalities and priorities.

Hilda had sat out the small mock battle between the Houses by feigning a headache, or so she’d overheard from Seteth, who had given the Goneril girl a hard time about it. Edelgard had hoped Hilda would leave behind her bad habits on her childhood home, but apparently that’s just who she was. 

And yet, despite being spoiled as well as the epitome of laziness, the heir to the Adrestian Empire could not help but still be drawn to Hilda as much as she despised the overall concept. 

She urgently needed to get her out of her system, but she had no idea how.

Dorothea, besides becoming somewhat of a confidant, had been so far extremely unhelpful. Her only comment had been a solemn nod and a “ _yeah, Hilda’s pretty hot_ ” followed by a pat to her cheek and an “a _w, Edie, is that really why you wear those ribbons on your hair_?” at which point Edelgard had decided to never seek advice from the sorceress ever again.

*** * ***

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion marked the first time she would be facing Hilda in a different kind of battle, the steel-on-steel kind.

Edelgard was excited. Facing her ex in battle like this would surely bring some closure and finally get the other girl out of her system once and for all. Either that or the longing inside her would implode. 

She hoped it was the former and not the latter.

There was no way Claude would allow for one of his best to sit this one out. So far into the year, the Goneril girl had masterfully avoided Edelgard in a way that was almost admirable, because it included memorizing schedules and purposely avoiding certain common areas at the perfect time. 

Despite their rooms being next to each other, Edelgard could count in one hand how many times she had actually seen the pink-haired girl.

The Black Eagles were positioned north of Gronder Field, with the Golden Deer in the south east and the Blue Lions opposite of them to the west. 

Byleth’s strategy for the millenia-old battle was exceptional on paper, as always. 

Unfortunately for their poor professor, a repeat of the mock battle ensued, with Caspar and Ferdinand charging ahead with little care for careful strategy, and an exasperated Hubert following them to provide cover.

The battle quickly deteriorated into a sort of free-for-all, the way it was meant to, just much more chaotic. Edelgard was trying to get to the middle to support Bernadetta who had successfully taken over the ballista and was firing arrows like crazy at the other two teams while screeching at them to stay back.

She almost made it, too, but a familiar voice made her pause before she could set foot on the stairs that led to the highest vantage point on the field.

“Edelgard!”

The Imperial princess whirled around, ready to dodge the possible sneak attack, but her opponent was several paces away from her, keeping their distance.

And that opponent was none other than Hilda Goneril.

Edelgard tried not to stare at just how _good_ the other girl looked in the brigand outfit, and instead decided to focus her attention in much more concerning matters, such as the wickedly sharp axe she was casually resting against the ground.

“Ah. Hilda.”

If it were anyone else, Edelgard would have absolutely not engaged. She would have cut them down without a second thought. But Hilda… Hilda was just standing there, a knowing smirk on her lips. 

“What’s with the frown?” Hilda’s casual tone -and topic- is completely inappropriate considering the cries of battle and the clanging of weapons around them, “You’ll get wrinkles when you’re older, you know. It stretches the skin.”

It’s the first civil set of words she’s got from the older girl for months, and Edelgard tries not to let it unnerve her. Something was at play here. She was all too familiar with the mirthful look in those eyes.

And yet, despite all the warning signs, she does not attack her.

Edelgard holds her Brave axe between clenched fists and raises it as if to remind her they’re kind of in the middle of a huge battle, “Not the best time for a chat on skincare, is it?”

If anything, Hilda’s smile widens. And she even has the gall to wink, “Another time then?”

It is all so random that Edelgard gets the urge to scratch her head almost comically. She is so momentarily confused and stays so still that she almost gets hit by the Hand axe that Hilda pulls from goddess-knows-where. 

She dodges it out of a combined two factors: muscle memory luck, and from the sloppy throw itself. The calculating part of her brain deduces that the Golden Deer wasn’t actually trying to hit her, but the primal part -the one that wins in this case- is _furious_. 

And a furious Edelgard is not a rational one.

“ _Whoopsie_!” Hilda’s smile is wolfish, “Can I try that again?”

“That’s _it_ ,” Edelgard snarls. She figures she’s humored Hilda for far too long, and it’s time for the Golden Deer to lose one of their main powerhouses.

Before she can gambit the other girl, Hilda tucks tail and _runs_. 

_She runs_ , and Edelgard hesitates.

Charging off to the east side of the field was _not_ what the professor had intended for her… let alone doing it _alone_. There was no Hubert to back her up, no Petra or anyone else watching her back.

But maybe… maybe she could do this. 

If she was fast enough, then she could dispatch Hilda and quickly get back into the thick of the fight before anyone could notice.

She narrows her eyes in the general direction that Hilda had fled. The Goneril heir had made a beeline towards the forest, perhaps hoping the foliage would provide cover and increase her evasiveness.

Edelgard scans the rest of her immediate surroundings. Relatively close but still a safe distance away, a white head of hair not unlike hers is guarding the Golden Deer perimeter. 

Lysithea. 

She had some sort of healing staff in one of her hands… what a waste. What was Claude thinking, giving such an item to his strongest magic user? Marianne was better off with such a thing.

If Edelgard had not been so mad at Hilda for pulling that stunt with the ranged axe, she would have watched the mage more closely. The future Emperor had certain theories regarding the youngest student at Garreg Mach, but that could wait.

Right now, she had to cut Hilda down.

The heir to House Ordelia was far enough away that Edelgard was quite confident that no spells of hers could reach her, as even the prodigy had not mastered Meteor yet (or so Byleth had said in their strategy meeting), so the princess felt perfectly safe chasing after her former girlfriend.

Edelgard reached the forest -more like a small clump of trees- in what was probably record time, still fueled by her rage. She can’t see Hilda, but she can hear her _laughing_.

 _Why_ was she laughing?

A young, kind of high-pitched voice several feet away says, “ _You’re irrelevant_!”

Edelgard has mere seconds to register that A, the voice was Lysithea’s, and B, that, despite being VERY far away, the Adrestian heir is impossibly hit with a white-hot blast of magic that sends her flying backwards.

*** * ***

What Seteth called “The Recuperation Space” had been affectionately dubbed “The Loser’s Tent” by literally every student, and so it became law for the Garreg Mach alumni to call it that.

It had been set up on the far side of Gronder’s field safe from all the fighting going on in the vast Bergleiz domain, but still with a semi decent view of what was going on. Not that anyone was interested. No one was standing outside the viewing deck, probably more preoccupied with their wounds.

Several long benches lined the space, dotted with defeated students getting medical attention. Healers milled around all the injured, carrying bandages and ointments, as well as casting spells on anyone who was badly banged up from the battle.

Edelgard’s ears burned hot with humiliation as she went to join them. 

Lysithea’s surprise spell still had her clothes smoking and her chest aching, and worst of all- Hilda’s delighted laughter was still ringing in her ears.

At least she was happy to not see many familiar faces. Most of her Eagles were still in the thick of the fight, led by their brilliant professor. She was confident that, despite her being out this early, her House would emerge victorious.

Caspar, who had been eliminated early on thanks to his usual recklessness and was blasted to bits by the Blue Lion’s Annette, gestured at her to join him.

He whistled in surprise, “Edelgard! Didn’t expect you to be joining us so soon… or at all.”

“Yes, well. It turns out Lysithea has incredible range with her magic.” Edelgard rubbed at the back of her neck and took a seat on the long bench beside him, allowing the blue-haired boy to give her arm a comforting squeeze.

Off to their right someone snickered. Edelgard cast an annoyed glance their way. 

It had been Lorenz, also known as ‘ _Ugly Ferdie’_ behind his back, the nickname courtesy of Dorothea. It was fitting, as both of them tended to spew the same nonsense about nobility _and_ the fact that the Alliance noble was certainly unfortunate to look at.

“Lysithea most definitely does not have the talent nor ability to do that on her own, Edelgard.” He said as he nursed a Vulnerary in a cup. “In reality, she was wielding the legendary Heroes’ Relic Thyrsus, boosting her magical range greatly.”

Edelgard’s eyebrows rose at the information. So _that_ is what the funny looking staff she blasted her with was.

She and the Professor had been under the impression that the only Heroes’ Relics they needed to worry about for this battle was Sylvain’s Lance of Ruin after the fiasco with his older brother.

In light of the above, they had prepared accordingly. Their dear teacher had recently helped Hubert master the advanced Dark Spikes Τ spell, which obliterated cavalry classes practically on sight. Thus, the Gautier heir had been eliminated early on and neutralized the Blue Lion’s advantage regarding the wicked lance before it could become a problem.

“Where did she get it?” Edelgard demanded.

“Oh, we went on an urgent mission a couple of days ago,” the purple-haired boy murmured around a sip of the healing potion. “There was trouble in my father’s territory that had to be resolved immediately. As a reward, he entrusted me with our sacred weapon.”

Fortunately for them, Lorenz was the chatty sort and continued without prompting. “To my utter shock, young Lysithea has a Major Crest of Gloucester! I was always under the impression that she bore but a Minor one from a different bloodline, but I suppose I was wrong.”

The Imperial princess felt her very guts twist at the information. She knew she was absolutely imagining it, but the scars that marred her body seemed to heat up at the words that further proved her theory regarding Lysithea.

She had hoped with every fiber of her being that she was wrong, that Lysithea was just _that_ magically gifted and that her hair was the result of genetics alone. But what Lorenz said just cemented what she already felt to be true further.

Lysithea had two crests, just like Edelgard did.

Caspar rested his elbows on his knees, looking interested. “If it’s your Houses’, why did she have it? Isn’t she from House Ordelia or something?”

The Alliance noble sniffed in indignation. “Alas, I was not allowed to bring it to the present fight. I was overruled by our tyrant of a house leader,” his eyes narrowed, “as well as his new shadow, the pink terror.”

“Hilda Goneril?” Edelgard froze.

“ _Yes_ , Hilda.” Lorenz pinches the bridge of his nose. “She may behave like a slacker on occasion, but when she puts her mind to it, the potential…” he doesn’t finish the thought, “besides, she is General Holst’s sister! He won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion back in the day, and I am positive he was just overflowing with advice.”

Oh, she was intimately familiar with the issue of Hilda’s untapped potential. It had been the source of endless fights between them. She wholeheartedly agreed that when she put in the effort, the Goneril girl was a force to be reckoned with.

“She is rather close to Claude, I’ll have you know. She stayed up all night helping him figure out the strategy for today- she claimed Lysithea would benefit from the additional range.” Loving to hear himself talk, Lorenz continued, suddenly furious, “she went as far as to say _my_ family’s relic was wasted on me! The nerve! She ended up convincing Claude that Lysithea was ideal for it, paying no heed to my objections.”

“Ah, that’s smart!” Caspar pumped his fist in the air, “Lysithea’s crazy strong, but she can’t move very far, I’ve noticed. She gets tired easily, too.”

Lorenz nodded reluctantly, “Hilda bet the upcoming week’s chores that some idiot heavy unit would probably think Lysithea to be an easy target and hide in the forest to try to ambush her, thinking they were safe… as you have probably learned from Professor Byleth, magical attacks always land regardless of the terrain that the opponent is standing on.”

Caspar grimaced and offered her arm a squeeze that was entirely less comforting than the first. “Yikes, Edelgard! I think that idiot was you!”

Although that had not been _exactly_ the scenario, Edelgard was still dumbfounded by just about everything the Gloucester boy had said. 

First off, _Hilda_ , staying up all night _working_? To carefully craft a strategy? And then to perfectly predict Edelgard’s train of thought like it was her own? 

Looking back on their time together, Hilda had always claimed that nights were exclusively for sleeping or for sex, and anything work related beyond 8 PM was strictly off-limits. She broke her own rule, all for the sake of keeping Edelgard from seeing the Battle of the Eagle and Lion through.

It unsettled her to some degree to learn just how bitter Hilda still was over their messy breakup. Not that in the grand scheme of things she was handling it any better, but still…

Also… _close to Claude_? She was exasperated at herself for even caring about that part, and for the stab of jealousy that pricked her heart.

Before she could wallow in self-pity for much longer, they were joined by Dorothea and Ashe, with the former pressing a Heal spell to the young archer’s forehead in a glow of white.

“I’m sure Hilda didn’t mean to get you in the head,” the sorceress grimaced, “I think she was just a little drunk on power after dodging that volley of arrows of yours and hanging on by the skin of her teeth.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Ingrid dove in shortly after to avenge you!” said Flayn cheerfully as she passed by, carrying a bunch of cloth meant to be cut into bandages in her arms.

“Ah-ha… I’m fine, really,” Ashe looked like he had a concussion and was anything but fine. “I just need to lay down…”

The Blue Lion’s finest sniper collapsed then, only to be immediately caught by Caspar’s quick reflexes before he could hit the ground. “Woah!”

Dorothea’s face was grim as their classmate and Lorenz helped carry Ashe away to get some stronger healers on him. “Another of Hilda’s victims today. I’m counting _you_ as one.”

Edelgard started to protest, “It was Lysithea’s spell that-”

“Oh, _Edie_! I saw your undoing before my very eyes. Hilda had been taunting you, luring you to the forest, away from us. You took the bait!” Her emerald eyes lacked their usual playfulness. “You figured the forest would give you an advantage in dodging her physical attacks. But you didn’t count on Lysithea-”

“I know, I know!” Edelgard felt like she’d been blasted with Luna all over again. “You needn’t remind me. I was there. I was…” her face fell, “I was an idiot.”

Dorothea lowered her voice. “We can all afford to be idiots sometimes, but not _you_ , and not to _her_ … especially after what you told me about your _history_. She makes you act irrationally.”

Edelgard swallows down her regret at having confined in her before saying, “I did not tell you about _that_ just for you to come up with ridiculous theories—”

“Whew, has anyone landed a hit on that wannabe knight yet?” Hilda’s sing-song voice immediately made Edelgard’s head turn in the direction of the opening to the Loser’s Tent, where the Golden Deer girl was just entering, holding an ice pack in her right hand.

“Careful, Edie. If you turn your head around that fast again it might just fall off,” is Dorothea’s sarcastic remark before the pink-haired girl joins them. The former opera singer ignores Edelgard’s icy glare and greets the newcomer with a smile, “So cute little Ingrid finally put an end to your rampage, huh?”

Hilda presses the ice pack to her cheek. “Fuck Ingrid.”

“ _I’m_ _trying_ ,” Dorothea says immediately.

Hilda’s laugh is grating to Edelgard’s ears as she fist-bumps Dorothea with her free hand, an unwelcome reminder to her of the friendship between the two girls and the easy energy between them. 

Why did Hilda’s bubbly personality match everyone’s but her own?

Several people join the tent as the sound of battle in the background grows closer and louder. 

It must be nearing its end. 

Edelgard should be out there supervising, or at least cheering her House on, but she’s scared of catching the professor’s steely eyes in the midst after her spectacular failure as House Leader and seeing disillusionment on their face.

She should be out there. _If it wasn’t for…_

Instead, she decides to try to reconnect with the person that had plotted her downfall allegedly _all night_.

For the sake of civility (and because she doesn’t want Dorothea to later accuse her of being discourteous to her ex) she decides to compliment Hilda for once. “The strategy with Thyrsus was quite impressive. Lorenz told me it was your idea.”

“Ooh, you liked that Luna to the face?” Hilda guffaws. She drops down to lay on the bench opposite of them, her ice pack held firmly in place between her jaw and shoulder. “I honestly didn’t know that it was gonna work, what with you all cheating and having some of the faculty on your side.”

Inwardly knowing Dorothea would no doubt scold her for it later, Edelgard jumps at the bait because she simply cannot help herself, “Professors Manuela and Hanneman insisted that our teacher should participate given the recent events.”

“I think Professor Byleth’s shoulders must hurt.” Hilda doesn’t even glance her way. “You know, from carrying the whole team on their back.”

Edelgard feels her frustration start to grow in the unique way only Hilda Valentine Goneril can manage, but before she can retort, Dorothea intervenes by violently changing the subject, “You were looking very pleased with yourself, Hilda. Something making you happy?”

The other girl’s expression suddenly brightens again, “Actually, yes. I _told him_ the Heroes Relic is better off in Lysithea’s hands. Lorenz might have gone to that fancy school of magic, but he still sucks. Claude owes me a week’s worth of chores, the big dummy!”

“Speaking of Claude,” Edelgard struggles to ignore just how _giddy_ Hilda sounds at the prospect of relaying her chores onto someone else. “How was the battle faring when you were there last?”

“Specifically for _our_ house,” Dorothea adds.

“Hmm, still lots of action in the middle. Your archer’s a pretty good shot. Hubert was chasing the big dude from Duscur around with a Banshee spell at the ready.” Hilda’s staring at the tent ceiling, listing off people in her fingers. “Oh! _Hot Lorenz_ was putting in the work on horseback, too.”

Dorothea snorts with laughter, “By _Hot Lorenz_ do you mean Ferdie?”

Hilda tilts her head to face them with a crooked smile that makes Edelgard’s heart do an annoying flip. “Yeah! I swear, they’re one and the same.”

“That’s what I said!”

Before Edelgard can feel too left out in their conversation, she spots the flap of the makeshift infirmary being pulled aside and feels a burst of pure joy at seeing Dimitri’s tall frame (closely followed by Dedue) enter the Loser’s Tent.

So she wasn’t the only House leader to fall, to her great relief. Granted, she was the first, but she’d rather it be Claude to be the last left standing than the heir to The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

“Who’s still going at it?” Linhardt’s monotone voice calls out from his spot near the entrance where Marianne is applying a salve to a cut near his eyebrow. From his tone, it sounds like he doesn’t care to know but is simply willing to put the question out there for everyone else’s sake.

It is somewhat comforting that literally no one seems interested in watching the Battle unfold, and it makes her feel a little less guilty about not being out there obsessing over every single detail. Staying inside the tent was perhaps the best move.

“From the Black Eagles: only the professor, Hubert and Petra remain,” Dimitri says in his clear voice for all to hear. “For the Golden Deer it’s up to Lysithea and their house leader.”

Hilda whoops out a _Go Claude_ , followed by a _Fear the Deer!_ from the big blonde guy, Raphael.

“Err, and how are _we_ doing?” Sylvain’s tone is not very hopeful, and with good reason: he’s surrounded by most of his classmates near the center of the tent.

Dimitri can’t meet any of the other Blue Lion’s eyes, “I’m afraid Felix is our only hope.”

“We’re doomed.” Sylvain sighs.

“I don’t know why he says that. That asshole Felix is a one-man army,” Dorothea exaggerates a shudder. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he managed to pull it off by himself.”

Hilda removes the ice pack from her face and over to a blooming purple-and-green bruise near her collarbone as she says, “I know, right?”

Edelgard has to drag her eyes away before she gets called out by either of these two for staring at the rise and fall of Hilda’s chest, all in account to where the ice pack is dangerously close to.

Instead her eyes seek the bold blue of Dimitri’s cape. She badly wants to ask him who defeated him, but from the sag of his shoulders she thinks she already knows, and it brings a small smile to her face.

_The professor…_

*** * ***

It turns out her hopes were not misplaced, as not fifteen minutes pass after Dimitri’s entrance that Seteth pokes his head in to announce that this year’s winners are… The Black Eagles!

All in all, and despite being at each other’s throats minutes before, everyone seems to be in good spirits. So much so, that Claude organizes a moderate feast to celebrate.

Edelgard doesn’t feel like she deserves it, but she accepts Dimitri’s and Claude’s praise, but the real star of tonight is the Professor. They look kind of uncomfortable being showered with attention from literally everyone, but the princess catches them smiling once or twice, which is an unusual, but very welcome sight.

There’s jokes, respect, protests, a few hard feelings, but it’s overall a fun time. Even the students that did not participate -Flayn and Monica to name a couple- seem to enjoy the festivities. 

Edelgard still wasn’t too sure about Monica yet, but her uncle had insisted that his associates had plans regarding the student, but he did not delve into much detail, and by then Edelgard was so disgusted by him that she did not inquire further... which in hindsight was probably a mistake.

Speaking of Monica, she was dead set on having Edelgard’s attention all to herself. At first she had not minded, but it was honestly starting to get a little on her nerves. If the girl dug her nails into her forearm one more time to claim her attention, she may very well snap.

Across the room, she catches Hilda’s glare over a tea mug.

At first she thinks it’s unwarranted, as the other girl had been on a civil mood back in the Loser’s Tent -she would even dare say borderline _playful_ -, but then she realizes the cold look is directed at the person sitting _beside_ Edelgard... Monica.

Edelgard does not know how to react, or if she should at all. She feels Monica start to shake her arm, yet again seeking her attention, but the princess is much too preoccupied by her new discovery.

Hilda is jealous.

*** * ***

After filling their social quota for the night, their teacher looks pretty overwhelmed and bids them all good-night followed by a roaring round of applause. Edelgard follows after them.

“Professor!”

She knows they want to be alone, but she can’t help it. She needs to talk to them in private, has wanted to since the battle ended but she just hasn’t found the right moment.

They patiently turn around, the ridiculous sleeves of their coat blowing around in tandem with the movement, “Hello, Edelgard.”

The air outside feels oddly flat compared to the noisy and rambunctious energy from the dining hall they just left, but the stars and inkiness of the night sky has its own particular magic about them that Edelgard really enjoys.

“My teacher, I wanted to apologize,” she starts, “For abandoning you all today. It was quite disgraceful of me. I just- what Hilda orchestrated- I was caught completely off guard…”

“Hilda? Hm.” Her teacher places one hand to their chin thoughtfully. “I am not surprised.”

Edelgard feels personally affronted by their response. “How come?”

Instead of delving into more detail, Byleth shrugs. She knows they aren’t big on using their words, and Edelgard can’t help but start to feel a bit exasperated at their lack justification for such high praise.

For whatever reason, it sets her off.

“She is but a sloth, she’s entitled, and all she cares about is gossip and goofing off!” she feels the rambling from deep within her chest and cannot stop it from pouring out like a wound that’s been slashed open, “A spoiled brat who whines and manipulates everyone around her to get her way regardless of how truly capable she is!”

The tiny part of her that still feels a semblance of _something_ for the other girl protests weakly in the back of her mind. She’s not being fair and she knows it, but deflecting and repressing everything inside of her like this was infinitely better than confronting her actual feelings. 

It was easier.

For a few seconds, her furious panting and a random assortment of night critter’s noises is all that fills the air between them after her outburst. She thinks perhaps Byleth is not going to dignify the attack with a response -as they probably should- but when they do reply, it’s in a careful tone.

“Hilda is a lazy perfectionist.” Unaffected by her viciousness, that is all the former mercenary says, like it’s this obvious thing that needs no further comment or grand explanation in order to understand.

“Please, elaborate.” Edelgard rubs at her temples as she feels a headache start to come on at the back of her eyes.

“I believe she is so scared of trying her hardest only to ultimately fail that she simply will not try at all,” that had to be in the top ten longest sentences to come from her teacher, and they were not done, “It is a common trait of people with successful siblings… the feeling that they will never be good enough.”

Despite her initial fiery anger, Edelgard feels like a bucket of icy cold water was dumped on her head. _Coldness of reality_. 

For the second time that day, her own idiocy alarmed her.

What the professor said made perfect sense. It was almost scary how they had managed to strip Hilda down to her bare essentials and dissect something so personal. Edelgard felt ashamed that she had not considered that Hilda’s whole reason of behaving the way she did was way deeper than she let on.

With yet another pang of guilt, the memory of Hilda’s teary eyes and broken voice resurfaces when, at their breakup, she’d said _I suppose I’ll just never be good enough for her Imperial Highness, huh?_

Edelgard rocks back on her heels, tilting her head up to the night sky to avoid looking into that blank expression. “So she’s scared of disappointing others?”

“Scared of disappointing others and not meeting their high expectations, yes.” Her teacher says.

They let Edelgard’s ashamed silence drag on for a minute until, finally, those emotionless eyes catch her gaze. “I think I will be asking her to join the class.”

Byleth had mentioned their interest in recruiting students from other classes, noting their talent and potential good fit for the Black Eagles, and Edelgard wouldn’t admit it outloud but she felt something akin to jealousy when their teacher sometimes bought gifts for students from other houses or invited them over for tea.

Still, Edelgard had never imagined that the first one on the list would be her _ex_ of all people.

She thinks about protesting, like the Edelgard from ten minutes ago surely would have, but any energy she had left to lash out at Hilda Goneril’s expense had left her body, at least for today.

She closes her eyes, willing for the headache to go away. “Very well. Keep me posted.”

Perhaps she’d regret her acquiescence in the morning. Right now, she just longed for this day to finally end.

“I will let you know,” Byleth confirms before leaving her to her own devices.

*** * ***

The next morning, it is not Hilda who walks into the Black Eagles classroom, but Lysithea von Ordelia.

She is introduced to the class and welcomed accordingly, and Edelgard almost cannot believe their teacher managed to recruit arguably the strongest mage in the Academy to their House.

Claude must have been reeling from the news.

Everyone is in good spirits from their victory over the others at Gronder Field, and the Professor exploits everyone’s good mood to tackle new and interesting subjects. Monica, now the second newest addition to their class, joins in too.

Lysithea naturally shines in her seat at the front row, asking pertinent questions and showing off her magical prowess- she even apologizes to just about half the class for nuking them with her powerful spells on the previous battle, Edelgard included.

The Imperial princess just smiles in a surprisingly fond way at the younger girl, approving of her teacher’s choice. However, she wonders why the sudden change of heart?

By the time class ends Lysithea has seamlessly become one of them, and Edelgard has a good feeling about this. Still, some anxiety lingers over a certain someone she can’t bear to name, so as soon as everyone leaves she approaches Byleth to seek clarification.

“My teacher?” Edelgard drags her feet towards the desk as soon as they are alone. “May I ask you something?”

At the Professor’s nod, she ventures, “I was under the impression that it was Hilda Goneril you were interested in for the class?”

“Yes.”

She tries not to roll her eyes at her teacher’s usual few words, and so she prompts “What did she say?”

Byleth coughs into their fist.

To her great surprise, their professor looks uncomfortable. She knew they struggled with social cues, but she has spent long enough around them to know that whatever they are holding back is probably pertaining to not hurting her feelings.

That was new.

They were usually blunt and held no regard to the consequences that their words may have. The fact that they were walking on eggshells about this made Edelgard dread their answer.

What if Hilda had revealed their history? She felt heat rise to her cheeks at the idea of Byleth knowing that part of her life. It wasn’t exactly a secret, or something she would deny, (lots of people knew already, and she’d divulged it herself) but it wasn’t something she wanted _the professor_ to know.

“My teacher,” Edelgard presses. “Whatever she said, I can handle, I assure you.”

Professor Byleth clears their throat, but the discomfort is still clear on their face. “Hilda said the only way she would join the Black Eagle’s house… is in a world in which you were not in it.” 

_Oh_.

Neither Hilda nor their dear professor knew this, but there may come a time in the not-so distant future where Edelgard would indeed stop leading the Black Eagle house, if all her plans ever came to fruition.

Would Hilda join then and only then?

If her face hadn’t been red enough before it sure was on fire now. It was her turn to be silent. Uncharacteristically, Byleth continues.

“Of course, I told her that was not an option, seeing as you are the House leader,” they say. “But I did leave the invitation open should whatever issue she has with you be resolved amicably.”

“That’s… hmm. I see. Well.” Edelgard needs to get out of here. She inclines her head respectfully. “Thank you, professor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

If Byleth is at all disturbed by her weird behavior all of a sudden, they do not show it. They nod in return and mutter a goodbye.

She just about flees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rare pair hell really is Something huh?
> 
> the next one has a fade to black, because im babey, but i promise it will be good!
> 
> also yeah, sticking to neutral byleth for now bc if it were FByleth then i cant, in good conscience, not pair her with edelgard so yeh.  
> *the timeline will get wonky but im trying to make it work ok


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning- there's a kind of steamy thing in the middleish-end

**6**

By now, Edelgard should have been somewhat accustomed to ending up in ridiculous situations.

She wasn’t.

What started out as chasing some suspicious individual in the middle of the night across the monastery, turned into the most bizarre group in history being assembled for a mission _underground_ out of all goddess-forsaken places.

Among the members of said bizarre group? Hilda Goneril. 

Why in the blazes Ashe, Linhardt and Hilda were waltzing around together at night, Edelgard could not for the life of her guess. But here they were, and they were officially invited to come along.

When Ashe cheerfully agreed with a “ _We don't have anything better to do at this hour, so we may as well pitch in_!” Hilda’s indignant face silently screamed _what do you mean WE?_ But Claude made it clear she was coming with them, whether she liked it or not.

She very clearly did not like it. 

“Are you sure about this, Claude? Your shoulder’s still healing from that mission three days ago,” Hilda grabs her house leader by the arm, “Maybe you should get some rest? I’ll accompany you, even!”

Claude rolls his shoulders as if to prove he’s immune to bandit blows. “I’m a big boy, Hilda.”

Hilda’s face sours. “Okay, Big Boy Man. Lead the way.”

*** * ***

Edelgard was fine for approximately ten minutes.

For her, marching among her classmates for hours under the sun to battle was a breeze. Doing laps around the monastery was nothing... but willingly venturing into the dark? 

Edelgard could not bear being underground.

Her imprisonment when she was young had left her with multiple painful reminders and –as Hubert often pointed out to her– _traumas_. Some visible, some not. 

Survivor’s guilt. Memory problems. Just to name a few.

An aversion to dark, enclosed spaces was certainly among them. Especially those below the surface. 

Their breathing echoed against the ancient brick passageway, leading them deeper and deeper into the pitch-black.

She felt like she was being swallowed by the earth. Edelgard tried not to let the panic set in, but the corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions, and the dotted night sky was so far behind them she couldn’t return to its safe embrace even if she wanted to.

The air was stale and uncomfortably warm, like peeking your head inside of an oven. Edelgard’s legs felt heavy and she started to lag behind the other lords, to the point that even Linhardt passed her, and he was dragging his feet and moaning about wanting to go to bed every waking minute.

And the absolute worst of all– she was pretty positive a _rat_ had scurried between her feet mere seconds ago. She hated the cursed things. It reminded her of shrill squeaks and painful nibbling of her limbs several feet underground, getting little to no sleep because of their constant torment.

Eventually, Edelgard just stopped in her tracks, the panic building inside her chest now unbearable. Despite part of her wanting to know if the tales about the passages beneath Garreg Mach held any merit, her sanity was not worth the tradeoff.

She started to formulate some sort of feasible excuse in her head, and braced herself for her beloved teacher’s disappointment, but an arm snaked its way inside the crook of her own.

Without her realizing, the one at the rear of the group had actually been Hilda. The Golden Deer girl could have easily kept up with the others, but for some reason she had opted to watch their back. The selfish part of Edelgard thought perhaps, and despite everything, her former girlfriend was still looking out for her, in her own way.

“Us girls should stick together!” Hilda declared, hooking her arm through Edelgard’s, providing much needed support, and combined with the torch in her other hand she might as well have pulled Edelgard out from drowning in the stuffy darkness.

A wave of relief and gratitude washed over Edelgard, with a dash of embarrassment. She’d been the biggest asshole to Hilda, yet here she was, looking out for her.

To the others, that didn’t know the history, the gesture was totally innocuous. Well… Claude’s brow arched in a way that Edelgard did not like, and it made her wonder if Hilda had confined in him. It would not be surprising, given how annoyingly _well_ they got on since literally _day one_.

“Careful, Hilda,” he called back in that playful tone of his. But his eyes were sharp as ever, even in the dark. “You’re being real chummy with our Imperial princess over there.”

Hilda stuck her tongue out. “And _you’re_ being real annoying. Eyes forward, Big Boy Man.”

Claude’s devil-may-care smile rubbed Edelgard in all the wrong ways, but he turned back around to speak with Byleth at the front of the party without another word to the two girls.

Once she’s sure those green eyes are no longer on them, Edelgard murmurs for Hilda only, “Thank you.”

“Just remembered your anxiety over dark places, is all.” Is Hilda’s reply, and despite trying to appear nonchalant, Edelgard gets the sneaking suspicion that she cares more than she lets on.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” is Hilda’s next comment. Despite Hilda’s help with walking -more like _stumbling_ \- through this unending darkness and bearing a lot of Edelgard’s weight, she was right. Edelgard’s terror was draining her of her energy faster than any battle ever had. “We’re going to have to improvise.”

“What are you–” before Edelgard can finish, Hilda calls out to Claude, also garnering the attention of the Blue Lions and the professor.

“Hey, Claude? C’mere. I think it’s a good time as any to figure out that one bet we had!” Hilda says. She winks in Dimitri’s direction, “Your Highness, Claude here thinks I’m stronger than you, but I have my doubts. Care to settle this?”

Claude walks over to them and raises his dark brows. Clearly, this was news to him.

Dimitri blinks in confusion. “I hardly think a fistfight in the middle of us chasing a thief is the appropriate setting-”

“Ew, who said anything about fists?” Hilda wrinkles her nose. “We each carry someone. Whoever endures the most wins?”

Claude had looked mildly puzzled at first, but ever perfectly in tune with Hilda’s shenanigans, he quickly catches on. 

“Ah, yes. It is an Alliance tradition to determine one’s strength,” Claude nods very seriously, immediately picking up on Hilda’s intentions like they are connected on another plane of existence. “One of our oldest, most sacred traditions in fact.”

Dimitri seems exasperated at their antics, at the stupid timing of it all, but is far too polite to flat out refuse them. “I… would not wish to offend such tradition.”

The future leader of the Alliance leans over and mouths something that looks suspiciously like _Best wingman or what_? and Hilda pushes his face away, barking at him to _stop_.

The Kingdom prince folds his arms in front of his chest, “Who am I to carry?”

Before Linhardt can jump at the golden opportunity of being carried the rest of the way - _and he very much looks like he wants to_ \- Claude jumps into Dimitri’s back and locks his arms together, “ _Me_!” 

Dimitri grunts at the sudden weight, and a lesser man would have stumbled at the sudden transgression, but he quickly straightens up. At his back, Claude gives Hilda a conspiratorial thumbs up.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll carry the remaining house leader then,” Hilda sighs dramatically before Linhardt can try his luck next. “Hop on, princess.”

Edelgard cannot even muster up the energy to appear reluctant. Exhaustion is quickly catching up with her, and if something or someone is waiting for them at the end of this passage, she better be somewhat ready.

Byleth looks on with an amused expression as Edelgard climbs onto Hilda’s back and locks her legs around her waist. Hilda adjusts her weight before grinning at the boys, and joins them at the front of the party, “All set!”

Linhardt grumbles on and on about how this was the dumbest reason on earth to stop, and under different circumstances Edelgard most certainly would have agreed with him, had she not been directly benefiting from the kindest thing Hilda had done for her in their many months at the Officers Academy. 

Hilda’s perfume is still lingering on her skin, and Edelgard immediately gets a brief hint of it, which in turn brings back memories of better times. She remembers Lysithea commenting on loving its smell after she joined the Black Eagles, and for obvious reasons Edelgard had not revealed that she absolutely did too.

“Would it be too much of me if I thanked you again?” Edelgard says, again for Hilda’s ears only. She’s not sure why she feels so comfortable to just strike up a conversation like this, but after Hilda’s actions earlier she feels like she has permission to do so.

“Nah, by all means.” Edelgard can’t see her face, but she can hear the smile in her tone. It feels like one of her real ones, the kind she hadn’t been privy to since their breakup. She would very much like to see it. “But don’t be obvious. I would like to do as little damage control as possible on Claude’s questions that I’m sure he’ll badger me with.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” she says softly, and she means it. Then, on a different note, “Claude doesn’t know that– you and I–?”

“Oh, he has _some_ idea. He’s been trying to piece the whole story together since day one,” Hilda’s chuckle is light. “I sprinkle in some half-truths to keep him on his toes. When he gets too smug, I tell him something outrageous, but believable enough to drive him nuts trying to either debunk or confirm.”

“I have been told time and time again that you two are… close.” Edelgard thinks she does a good enough job of keeping her jealousy at bay with her neutral tone, “Why… why not just tell him?” 

Hilda cranes her head back just enough to roll her eyes, “And where’s the fun in _that_?” 

“Ladies! You’re falling behind,” Claude gleefully announces, still attached to Dimitri’s broad back, clearly enjoying his free ride. “You’re making the Alliance look bad, dearest Hilda.” 

“Oh, _I_ make the Alliance look bad? That’s rich, coming from the guy who accidentally poisoned himself,” Hilda’s singsong tone calls back.

“Who says it was on accident? Have you considered that perhaps I just enjoy giving myself explosive diarrhea–”

“I’m begging you.” Dimitri says, voice deadpan. “Stop talking.”

Hilda picks up the pace and joins the others yet again. Despite being so small, even Edelgard sometimes forgot just how powerfully built the Goneril girl was. In her place, Edelgard would probably have been throwing up blood by now, what with her two crests being so taxing on her body.

Claude claps him on the shoulder, “You’re doing great, big guy. Hilda’s just some weakling.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows arch up, “I thought your original bet was placed against me?”

“...and by ‘ _Hilda’s a weakling_ ’ I clearly meant ‘ _Dimitri Blaiddyd sucks’_. Forgive me, I misspoke.” Claude’s sheepish look is enough to draw a laugh from everyone despite it all. Even the corner of the Professor’s mouth quirks up.

Edelgard’s chest tightens a little, looking at each of their faces frozen in their glee. Right now, they were laughing together, teamed up against the thief in the night. She could not help but indulge the stark reminder that, in a few months’ time, if she continued to walk her crimson path, these very people would be teamed up against _her_.

Suddenly, Byleth tenses. “I see a light.”

Oh, joy.

* * *

So much happened in the span of a few hours, surely Edelgard had earned herself a break in the immediate future?

Sadly, she was wrong.

Not only had they been made aware of the secret underground town of Abyss, Archbishop Rhea’s abandoned pet project that she apparently hated now and wanted to see destroyed. 

They had also met a fourth secret house… the Ashen Wolves, they called themselves, led by the shady ‘Yuri’... if that was even his real name. 

That’s when two things happened.

The first, Byleth agreed to help them defend themselves against their attackers, however many there may be, which Edelgard was fine with, despite her personal gripes with the Church and her distrust of Cardinal Aelfric.

The second, which she was _not_ fine with, is that their Professor let it slip just before bedtime that Lorenz and Sylvain would be joining the Black Eagle’s House upon their return to the surface.

“That can’t be right,” Dimitri’s calm facade was cracking without Dedue there to reel in _the Boar_. “I understand why Felix left us last month, but Sylvain… I thought…”

“Tch, Sylvain will go after anything attractive that has a pulse,” even Claude was losing his cool. “But Lorenz? _What the fuck_?”

The Ashen Wolves shift uncomfortably in their seats at the spike in tension, as what had been a somewhat peaceful dinner of modest soup and bread turns into a heated discussion. It did not help that they did not know who in the world these surface dwellers were talking about.

Byleth, ever oblivious to intricate social interactions, answers their rhetorical questions. “They wished to learn the approach I take in Reason lessons. That, and... they found me quite charming.”

After Lysithea was the first student to transfer houses, others soon followed. Their teacher’s method was simple: they would woo them with tea parties and presents, ask them to join them on missions, or impress them with their sheer ability in almost every skill. Professor Byleth was recruiting new students almost every week.

Needless to say, Claude and Dimitri were pretty fed up with this.

“I’m sure they did,” Claude’s glare is entirely reserved for Edelgard. “The greedy Empire wants to leave our House without magic users.” He turns to face Hilda, “How long before they steal Marianne, do you think? Couple of weeks?”

“Marianne would _never,_ ” Hilda defends. “It’s Leonie who’s been thinking about it. You can’t get three words in without her reminding you she _trained under Captain Jeralt_.” 

Claude points Dimitri’s way, “You better keep Annette and Mercedes close. The Black Eagles have sticky fingers, friend.”

Dimitri balls his hands into fists, and says nothing. Beside him, Ashe looks like he wants to reassure him, but the corner of his eye drifts over to Byleth, and he does not. 

Maybe he was thinking about transferring as well.

For her part, Edelgard had mixed feelings about it all. On the one hand, it was great that so many talented individuals were joining the House she had been tasked to lead. On the other, befriending and caring about so many people could only end in heartbreak down the road when her chosen path became clear to everyone. 

Also, Claude’s and Dimitri’s dirty looks directed at her at every opportunity did not help, because they thought she was behind the transfers instead of the Professor.

“Well, Hilda, in light of this, I’m going to have to ask you to pick up some Reason and Faith books ASAP.” Claude was apparently not done venting his frustrations, “How fast d’you think you can learn Nosferatu and Thunder?” His green eyes flick over to Byleth’s neutral ones. “You know, just in case.”

“Just in case,” the pink-haired girl echoes. Hilda is evidently not happy with her House leader’s words, judging from the angry line of her mouth and the fact that she’s absolutely terrible at magic in general.

“How ‘bout we call it a day?” Balthus’ booming voice says, attempting to cut some of the underlying tension, but not really achieving this, because Dimitri is still glaring daggers at the Professor.

Edelgard had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that this guy was not only Holst’s long-lost best friend, but also a resident of Abyss. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Hilda was feeling at finding him here.

“Indeed!” Constance gets to her feet and gestures at Hilda and Edelgard with an elegant flick of her wrist, “I shall show our two guests to the women’s quarters!” 

The Nuvelle descendant was also an interesting character. Despite only interacting once or twice, Edelgard had a strong suspicion that when all of this was over, if the Wolves decided to rejoin society, Constance would be an excellent fit for her House. 

She got the feeling Constance and Ferdinand would get along perfectly.

Hapi and Constance walked a few paces ahead of them, talking in hushed tones. Edelgard had been so busy with her own thoughts that it took her a couple of moments to remember that she and Hilda were the only girls from the Garreg Mach party. 

When they reached the “women’s quarters” –a dark, brick-clad room in front of the dump where Byleth had gone to salvage some metal earlier– their two hosts stopped at the door and made no indication that they would be joining them.

“Um? Are we all sleeping in here, or...” thankfully Hilda piped up when Edelgard felt too awkward to do it herself.

Constance laughed nervously, “Ahaha, well… you see, my companion and I, we have matters of the utmost importance to attend to… it cannot be helped, which is quite unfortunate…our sleeping accommodations lay elsewhere...”

“C’mon, Coco.” Cherry-colored eyes were decidedly fixed on purple-painted lips. “We need to go.”

“Hapi! Do not rush me,” but Constance’s tone with the Valkyrie is gentle, even as her cheeks blush a pretty pink. She turns to them with an impatient flare to her nostrils, “If you need anything–”

“–then they can ask B or Yuri,” Hapi wraps an arm around the Nuvelle girl’s waist who squeals in delight. “Goodnight all.”

As Hapi whisks Constance away, Hilda salutes after them, and when they’re out of earshot, she says, “Those two are _definitely_ going to bone.”

Edelgard shakes her head, having forgot just how crass Hilda could be. She enters the room, and much like all of Abyss, it definitely could use some improvements. The brick is dark and ancient, sometimes missing entire chunks of the stuff, and probably one breath away from turning to dust under one’s fingers. There’s a couple of bunk beds, and not much else.

When Hilda joins her inside and closes the door behind her, there’s a tight set to her jaw that Edelgard immediately recognizes. 

She’s mad at her.

Edelgard had sensed the hostility during dinner after Byleth’s unfortunate announcement regarding the class transfers, but besides that she didn’t think she’d done anything wrong.

The Adrestian raises her hands defensively, “What did I do now?”

Hilda is silent for a couple of seconds, drinking her in. She has her hands on her hips, making her displeasure known. When she speaks, her tone is clipped. “How long have you known about Lorenz?”

Oh, that?

“The Professor let me know of your classmates’ decision after choir practice,” Edelgard informs her. 

She doesn’t understand why she’s upset. She’s fairly sure Hilda doesn’t even like the guy, and only uses him to wheedle favors out of him by dangling Holst’s approval over the poor guy’s head.

“Oh, cool, cool. So, anyone else we should worry about?” Hilda’s eyes narrow. “Should I start keeping tabs on how many smoked meats or training weights Raphael is receiving every week, courtesy of one Byleth Eisner?” 

All trace of Hilda’s goodwill is decidedly _gone_ from her overall body and mind. For the first time ever they had fought _together_ , on the same side, against the Wolves hours before, and now the event felt tainted somehow. 

Even her much appreciated help with reaching Abyss down the passageway seemed like it happened to someone else.

“Who Byleth decides is a potential good fit for my House is out of my control,” Edelgard says, her own eyes narrowing right back. “Sometimes they don’t even ask me.”

Hilda snorts, “Oh, they don’t check in with you? Now the Professor’s hilarious request after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion makes sense… before you assholes took Lysithea in my place.”

Edelgard feels her ears heat up at the reminder that Hilda had unceremoniously shot down Byleth’s attempt to recruit her to the Black Eagles. She had been the very first person on their list, too.

Her carefully built mask must have cracked and revealed some type of emotion on her face despite her best efforts at hiding it, because Hilda’s smile twists into a mocking one.

“Aw, rejection stings, doesn’t it?” Hilda walks over to one of the bunks and sits down, her eyes still fiery. She follows Hilda’s movements like a hawk, but soon she cannot stomach the intensity of it.

Unable to keep her gaze, she drops it, and Edelgard’s tone is quiet, measured, when she says, “Is it true that you turned the Professor down because of me?” 

“Hm! To no one’s surprise, the princess thinks too highly of herself,” Hilda drawls, suddenly dropping eye contact too, opting to glare at her nails instead. “No, see… you have your Hubie, and Dimitri has whatever he has with Dedue. And I really thought Lorenz was that person for Claude, but… apparently not.” Hilda swallows, clasping her hands before her. “Now, Claude will always have _me_ , I guess.”

Edelgard understands the overall sentiment behind it, on a rational plane, really, she does, and Hilda’s loyalty to the schemer is quite admirable, but she cannot help but absolutely loathe her choice of words. 

_Claude will always have me_. 

Her expression must have been a miffed one, because Hilda goes back to that jeering smile that’s one second away from making Edelgard snap completely, “I mean, _yeah_ , being in the same class as your ex would suck, too, don’t get me wrong. Out of the two of us, I _am_ the most human, after all.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Edelgard is vaguely aware that she’s dangerously close to falling for Hilda’s provocations, _again_. Her blood is boiling for something she can’t quite name.

When all Hilda does is offer a thin, flat smile in return, is when she finally realizes _what_ the Golden Deer had been after all along: a fight. 

Well, a fight she would get.

“It means, _princess_ ,” Hilda jumps up from the bed and meets her halfway in the middle of the dingy room. She is but a couple of inches away, her eyes stormy. “That I _can’t stand the sight of you_.” 

The world sort of whites out for a moment as they lunge for the other at the exact same time, trying to gain the upper hand. Edelgard swipes the legs out from under Hilda, who reflexively grabs her by her crimson cape, causing both of them to tumble into the ratty rug below in a tangle of limbs.

Edelgard doesn’t have time to dwell on how grimy the rug really is, because Hilda is grappling with her to pin her down against said object. There really seemed to be no point or goal to what they were doing, except for one unspoken thing: get the other to submit. 

And Edelgard wasn’t about to do _that_.

All the pent-up tension and feelings she had suppressed for months now flowed freely out of her with every shove, every snarl. If an improvised wrestling match was what it would take to get Hilda Goneril out of her system once and for all, then so be it.

Usually, it would be unbecoming of her to actually engage in a physical altercation such as this, but every nerve on her body was thrumming with the need to confront this, and she felt that Hilda’s blazing energy matched her own in that regard.

The future Emperor channels everything she’s feeling and forces Hilda _down_ , straddling her waist and ignoring the hiss the Golden Deer girl makes when she digs her knee into her ribs.

“If that’s how you feel about me,” Edelgard says between labored breaths, “Then _why_ did you help me in the passageway? I’d daresay you even went above and beyond.”

Instead of answering, Hilda bucks underneath her, trying to dislodge her, but Edelgard holds fast. Her refusal to answer just flares up Edelgard’s frustration. 

She has Hilda’s hands in an iron grip, crossed over her own stomach to maintain her advantage but she doesn’t know how long she can keep it up, as it is not the most comfortable of positions to restrain someone. She doesn’t want to risk bringing them above the pink-haired girl’s head in fear of getting headbutted for her trouble.

“Why, then, do you always lose that smile when I’m around Monica?” Edelgard tries something different, “I’m told you were outside the training grounds the other day sulking about it.”

“I do not _sulk_ ,” Hilda growls, and Edelgard is so thrown-off by the sound, she almost loses her balance and has their position reversed, but she presses down on Hilda’s hands to remind her she’s still very much in control.

Hilda stops moving momentarily and huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face with an angry pout. And that’s when Edelgard’s dumb teenage brain shuts off, as her eyes travel down the wiry muscles of Hilda’s arms... that’s also when she sees small battle scars marring her otherwise perfect skin.

She knows she shouldn’t be surprised, given the kinds of lives they led at the academy and how surely Hilda had been in her share of battles by now, but it’s still different to what she was used to. 

These were new.

They were not the product of a butcher’s job, like Edelgard’s were, but an assortment of different marks she could not help but be distracted by. Apparently, the girl from a family that had spoiled her rotten finally had had a taste of the real world, of the hardship of relying on your own two hands to keep you alive in battle.

Edelgard was only distracted for seconds, but if Hilda was anything it was _perceptive_ , and the Goneril girl took advantage of the moment and reared up again, this time successfully flipping their positions.

“Pray tell, _Edie_ ,” she uses Dorothea’s nickname for her like a weapon, “Why do _you_ go purple in the face every time Claude flirts with me? Or anyone, really? The other day I really thought you were going to punch Ferdinand in the mouth when he kissed my hand.”

The younger girl shakes her head, as if doing so would stop Hilda’s questions from taunting her like that, and she’s pretty mortified when she feels a flush, hot and terrible, creeping its way up her neck.

She tries to bring her knee up to slam against Hilda’s middle to knock her off, but Hilda’s powerful legs keep hers spread and thus, harmless.

“While we’re on the subject, I think it’s cute that you leave the sauna every time I walk in,” Hilda’s tone is smug, “But not without giving me a hearty look-over in that towel, mind you. You’re not as discreet as you think, babe.”

Edelgard’s face is actually on fire, and the furious blush doesn’t go unnoticed by Hilda, whose eyes widen almost innocently, and she leans closer to continue teasing her without a care in the world. “Your crushing on me is kinda funny, you know?” her breath is hot against Edelgard’s ear, and she actually feels the flush on her skin worsen if at all possible. “Considering _you_ are the one that broke up with _me_.”

Despite the bitter tinge in her voice, Hilda chances it by leaning back and flipping her twin tails over her shoulder, and she offers a small smile, “If I were a gambler like Baltie, I’d bet you don’t even know _why_ you did it. You let one stupid moment crash and burn this good thing we had going for us.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing,” Edelgard shoots back, leveling the Goneril heir with her own icy glare despite the heat that’s slowly consuming her face.

Ignited by a new resolve of seeing that smirk wiped entirely from Hilda’s lips, Edelgard thrashes and rages and she _almost_ manages to dismount the older girl with her antics, judging by the surprise and worry that flashes across her face. 

Her plan backfires, when, in her frenzy to stay on top, Hilda brings her knee up and it lands right between Edelgard’s legs, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine. 

The Golden Deer is so preoccupied on maintaining her advantage, she doesn’t even notice, instead focusing her efforts into yanking Edelgard’s hands up and above her head, pressing down her wrists against the shitty carpet to assert her strength. 

“Hey, stop that,” Hilda frowns, still oblivious to what half of her body is up to. “You’re making me work!”

Edelgard throws her head back, refusing to look at the other girl and praying the pressure on her crotch would _go away_ without having to actually ask Hilda. She’s so touch-starved, that the feral part of her longs to rub herself against the knee that’s accidentally shoved up between her legs to feel the semblance of _something_.

Hilda mistakes her horniness for defiance, and goes right back to their stupid power game. “Anyway… are you going to explain _why_ you’re so pissed that I didn’t join your House? ‘Cause I get the impression you were _pre-tty_ affronted by that.” 

She shakes her head adamantly and struggles some more, desperately trying not to look at the girl straddling her hips. Edelgard _knows_ that the second Hilda gets _one_ look into her eyes, the predicament she was in would dawn on her. 

“Answer me,” Hilda’s voice is low when she demands it, and she shifts her weight in a way that would not have been any kind of problem had her knee not been where it currently was.

The slight movement intensifies the pressure, and a strained, _tiny_ noise finally escapes Edelgard’s throat. Against years of practicing self-control, she squirms in place, not to escape, but to seek some kind of relief.

“Uh, what are you–” finally, _finally_ Hilda glances down, and freezes when she becomes aware of what’s happening. Her mouth forms a perfect little ‘ _o’_ as she quickly removes her leg and her tone is apologetic, “My bad. I didn’t realize– _oh_.”

In the most mortifying way possible that her body could betray her, Edelgard’s hips rise up, missing the contact. She immediately jerks back down and stays perfectly still, horrified at what she just did.

 _Shit_.

In that moment, Edelgard wants nothing more than to melt into the disgusting carpet and become one with its grime if it meant escaping this very moment of her life.

She’d missed Hilda’s genuine smiles over her sarcastic and nasty ones, and the crooked grin she’d longed to see for months finally graces her face at the worst possible time. 

“You’re _really_ wound up, aren’t you?” Hilda cants her head to the side, like a cat surveying their prey.

Edelgard grits her teeth and considers ignoring her completely, but a weak nod is what her head does instead. It was no use to pretend to be indignant now. 

The gig was up.

She watches Hilda inhale sharply, her eyes alight with the exact same thing they used to shine with back in the winter when it was just the two of them. She grabs Edelgard’s chin and tilts it up, forcing lavender to meet pink. “Remember our _lessons_ , back in my room?”

How could she forget. It had been her best- and first- _real_ kiss with someone. To this day, she still marveled a little at Hilda’s smoothness in calling every different type of kiss a ‘lesson’ only to culminate in them making out on her bed. It was an art, truly.

Edelgard nods again, her eyes a little wide.

“Well, I think we need a crash course of that right about now.”

Unlike then, where their kisses had been tentative and sweet, this time when Hilda brings their mouths together their teeth almost clash and it’s several degrees rougher, and Edelgard wouldn’t have it any other way.

They quickly get back into their old rhythm, knowing exactly what the other likes and, _Goddess_ , she had her issues with Hilda’s personality, but she was one hell of a good kisser. They kissed, and kissed some more. Until they were panting just a bit and pulling each other a little too close. 

Edelgard thinks she’s beyond the point of being able to feel embarrassed, given this series of events, but she’s proved wrong when she has to bite back a moan and upon noticing, Hilda stops and sits up.

She tries her absolute hardest not to plead with her eyes.

“H-Hilda.”

She fails.

“Have you let anyone else touch you since me?”

Leave it to Hilda to make Edelgard feel intolerable longing as well as absolutely infuriated at the same time, with only one sentence. She flexes her jaw, “Why is that relevant?”

“It’s really not,” the evil glint returns to Hilda’s eye. “I just want to hear you say it.”

Edelgard wants to tell her she’s had ample opportunity to mess around in that front ( _thank you, Dorothea, for your interest_ ) but she always chickened out at the last second. If it was because of her overall busy life plotting the downfall of the Church, or due to whatever Hilda’s fevered little brain thought on the matter, she didn’t know.

Right now, she didn’t care.

“I have not.” Edelgard forces out, for the sake of getting right back to what they had been doing, her pride long forgotten. “You were the first… and the last.”

With Hilda’s ego satisfied (for now), the older girl leans back down and grazes her teeth down Edelgard’s throat, eliciting another soft sound from the princess. It’s a restrained kind of noise, typical of Edelgard, who was always censoring herself.

Although at the beginning of their relationship Edelgard had not been fond of surrendering control, and Hilda had been more than happy to let her do all the work, eventually her walls had come down and the Goneril girl had proved herself more than capable to top her on occasion, as she was now.

She felt like she was under a rainstorm, every part of her skin alive and present and aching. This time, deliberately, Hilda pushes her thigh up to grind it between Edelgard’s legs, and she sees stars. Her efforts are rewarded with a soft cry from the princess that Hilda swallows with her own mouth, before moving down to shower her collarbone with attention.

There’s a clanging sound somewhere beyond the door, and although Edelgard’s eyes are thrown open in alarm, Hilda does not stop what she’s doing. 

Through her haze of pleasure, she vaguely remembers that their room is right in front of the room dubbed 'the Scrap Heap' where Abyssians throw away their unused weapons or items, and someone must have been going for a late-night scavenging. 

“Hilda... th-there’s someone–” Edelgard stammers, but her words die out before finishing her warning, not trusting herself to continue on account of Hilda’s rocking against her leaving her gasping.

“Open your mouth.” 

Edelgard hesitates at the command. Part of her resents being given an order, but the other part of her, and the one that ultimately wins, opens her mouth just a fraction, invitingly. Without another word, Hilda presses two fingers against her lips, parting them and slowly delving into the warm softness of Edelgard’s mouth.

If at all possible, her face flushes even redder when Hilda looks at her with half-lidded eyes and a pleased little smile, “ _Good girl_ , Edelgard.”

She can’t very well retort to that what with Hilda exploring the heat of her mouth, driving her wild, so a pitiful whimper around her fingers is the best she can manage. For a lack of a better thing to do, she sucks on them, and Hilda’s cheeks quickly match the color of her eyes, her ragged breathing intensifying.

When whoever was lurking outside finally leaves with a parting clang of metal and a muttered curse, Hilda pulls out her fingers with a wet noise that Edelgard wishes she could eradicate from her brain. 

“You did _very_ good.” Hilda coos, as her other hand toys with the waistband of Edelgard’s black shorts, “This was a fun way to keep you quiet, but there’s another use to this.”

Hilda drags her thigh away from Edelgard’s splayed legs, and she whines at the loss of contact, hating that she’s been reduced to _this_. 

She’s breathless when she asks, “And what is that?”

The Golden Deer holds her slick fingers up for Edelgard to see, a wry smile on her pretty face, “So these can go inside you easier.”

* * *

The next morning ( _was_ it the morning? Did days even pass by in Abyss?) the first thing Claude does is saunter up next to Hilda to clap her hard on the back, almost making her spit out her morning tea.

“Goooood morning, Hilda!” He flops down beside her, his sparkling eyes matching his equally good mood. “You look positively vibrant! Get a good night’s sleep, did you?”

Yuri thought something big was going to go down at the arena, and they were preparing themselves with a hearty breakfast. Edelgard and Hilda had been talking quietly with each other, tiptoeing around the events of last night, when the Riegan heir interrupted them.

“Nothing to report,” Hilda wipes her chin with the back of her hand, her eyes narrowing in distrust at her classmate. She pointedly avoided Edelgard’s gaze now that they were not alone.

It does nothing to dent his good spirits, “Oh, is that so? Just a boring, regular night?”

“Yep.” 

He leans back on his chair casually, “Ah, well… although a valiant effort was made, you missed a spot,” Claude points at his own neck, “You somehow brought your makeup all the way down here, only to do a shoddy job of covering up that hickey. Tragic.”

Hilda’s hand shoots up to her neck to cover the mark, and her mouth opens, but Claude beats her to it, “No, no, don’t spoil this for me,” he stands up and places both hands on Hilda’s shoulders, “Let’s just say Sylvain owes me a brand new board game!”

To their far left, Linhardt groans, “Why does everything have to be a bet with you Golden Deer people?”

Edelgard sinks her face into her gloved hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilda's POV is coming back in the next one in case yall missed a more snarky narration lol  
> alsoo can you tell i only played through 2 chapters of cindered shadows lmao sorry if theres any inaccuracies but im still in animal crossing hell so i haven't touched FE in a month  
> hope this fed everyone who's also in rarepair hell as well as quarantine!
> 
> 18/10/2020 | UPDATE  
> SO! gracecarg4 commissioned a piece for the scene at the end... [here](http://twitter.com/spicyrato/status/1316077409322643457?s=21)


	7. seven

**7**

After the weirdness that entailed dealing with Abyss as a whole, Edelgard and Hilda sort of fell into a rhythm.

It was similar to their olden days, but strangely it was still _exciting_ and _new_ enough to feel like something entirely different. Initially, Hilda refused to actually label whatever it is they were doing, despite Edelgard’s not-so-subtle hints to do so. 

But, could she blame her? After Edelgard dumped her the first time, Hilda wasn’t all too keen to place her trust in the future emperor again.

At first, she tried to have their _thing_ be casual, but both of them were _so_ intense that they ended up just agreeing to give it another try, but not blatantly advertise that they were together.

So, kind of a secret but not really.

One of the biggest changes is how disgustingly domestic their dynamic became after their heated moment in the underground of Garreg Mach.

They ate together, trained together, walked to classes together (Hilda did not miss the way Edelgard’s eyes narrowed every time the pink-haired girl made a beeline for the Golden Deer classroom.)

After Hilda got tired of sneaking in –and _out_ – of Edelgard’s room, she practically moved in, despite some of the princess’ objections. 

“Hilda, I know your brother does not mind, but I can’t have you poking around _my_ documents,” Edelgard’s still a little breathless from their earlier activities, but she still attempts to look somewhat put-together despite the sweet flush on her face. “A lot of it is classified.”

Hilda’s only half-listening. She’s too mesmerized by the way violet eyes catch the dying sunlight streaming through the window, and Edelgard’s freshly-fucked afterglow is one of the looks she missed the most. 

Also, she was convinced that the Big Three (see: Dimitri, Claude and Edelgard) had comfier beds than the rest of the mere mortals, noble status or not. So, Hilda was a bit distracted and mellow, to say the least.

“ _Classified_?” Hilda snorts. “I know those are your _doodles_ , babe. No state secrets to be found!”

If at all possible, Edelgard’s face gets even redder. She splutters something that rings with indignation, and Hilda places a small kiss to her jaw to placate her, “Aw, don’t be embarrassed! They’re good! Like… not Ignatz- _good_ , but still very nice, you know?”

But the Adrestian continues to stew in her mortification, and despite praise working wonders in bed, she seems averse to it on any other aspect of her life. 

Still, Hilda tries again. “I especially like the way you draw Byleth. I think you captured their vaguely pissed-off expression very well!”

Since Edelgard can’t very well hide, seeing as they’re squeezed together on her twin-size bed, she sighs through her mouth and closes her eyes. “Can we stop discussing my portraits, please?”

Hilda would tease Edelgard every waking moment if she could, if only for the reactions that she could elicit from the other noble, but she was merciful. 

She sits up and pulls on one of the princess’ satin robes, a nice bright red one. It probably clashed horribly with her pink hair, but they were alone, and she did not care. Given their same height, she greatly enjoyed sharing clothes with the other girl, even if sometimes Hilda’s bigger chest did present a problem occasionally.

“Let me do your hair?”

Obediently, Edelgard sits up as well, and returns to bed after pulling on smallclothes and Hilda’s discarded white blouse, unbuttoned in the middle.

As she combs her fingers through white locks, she tries to picture what Edelgard would look like with brown hair, allegedly her original color. 

Hate sex was not the only thing they had got out of their respective systems down in Abyss. On one of their last night’s down there, when Hilda voiced that she was having doubts about rekindling their relationship, Edelgard had finally broke down and confessed just _why_ she was so terrified of the underground.

And _a lot_ of things made sense after that. 

Edelgard’s _crests_ (yes, _plural_ ) finally clicked. Her hatred for her uncle was justified, even if some of the exact _details_ were muddy, the imperial noble shared _just_ enough information to let Hilda understand some of the inner workings of her mind, and even some of her troubled background.

 _The crest of Flames_ , the same one Byleth was born with, had been forced into Edelgard’s body through “ _blood reconstruction surgery_ ” –which, _holy shit_?– to thrive inside her along with her natural, minor Seiros one.

Finally, after a whole year since the incident of the healing crest activating, Hilda knew _why_ Edelgard had freaked and ended things.

The names she murmured at night during her night terrors? _Her dead siblings_. Either killed or driven mad by the experiments, Edelgard used to be _eighth in line for the throne_. Even now, near the end of the Ethereal Moon, Hilda’s head was still reeling from all that the young princess had revealed to her.

And... Lysithea made sense. 

The Golden Deer as a whole had actually found out about Lysithea shortly before she transferred houses. The young mage had talked about blood experiments and crest implants, a shortened lifespan, and this secret of hers was partially behind the fire that inspired both Claude and Hilda to stop Edelgard from seeing the battle through when devising the strategy.

It had never occurred to her that Edelgard herself had been a victim of those same experiments, that the Empire had damaged both of them in such a way.

Apparently, some late-night talks and a few heart-to-hearts with _Byleth_ of all people about her background, had finally given Edelgard the courage to let Hilda in too.

She had a gut feeling it wasn’t the _whole_ story, not really, but _goddess above_ was it enough to get her to finally see things from the Adrestian’s viewpoint for once. 

Truth be told, it had left her with a very soft spot for the future emperor, and she had been very lenient with her ever since. Even when Raphael and Ignatz announced with teary eyes that they would be transferring to the Black Eagles, she hadn’t held it against the other girl as much as Claude wanted her to.

Ever the nerd, from _somewhere_ Edelgard had procured her notes from Professor Byleth’s class, and in the heading her neat and loopy handwriting indicated the lesson had been about “HOW TO KNOCK PEGASUS KNIGHTS ON THEIR ASS.”

Sometimes she forgot the former mercenary was only a couple of years older than them –younger than Mercedes, even.

Their way of teaching was _so_ unorthodox, sometimes Hilda did get an intense curiosity to sit in on one of their classes and see why so many people were so keen on transferring. Byleth’s methods yielded excellent results both academically and out on the field, so for being a first-time teacher it was pretty damn impressive.

One peek at the notes confirmed her suspicion: the lesson had been very detailed and thorough, providing invaluable insight consisting on Byleth’s firsthand experience in effectively defeating Pegasus Knights. 

Manuela’s classes were okay, but they were mostly left in the theoretical part of teaching and not actual experience, much like Hanneman’s. Plus, both were mages, and sometimes Hilda did wish she could learn from someone who wasn’t afraid to get up close and personal with a foe.

Everyday, it got harder and harder to refuse Byleth’s offer to switch houses.

“It _feels_ like you’re doing something new,” the younger girl muses, “No buns or braids today?”

“I think you’d look _really_ cute with a side ponytail.” Hilda says. “Or any type of ponytail, really. Your hair’s nice and long for it!”

“I don’t think _cute_ is the look most emperors go for,” Edelgard’s eyes are still glued to her homework, but she’s clearly divided her attention between the two.

Hilda laughs softly, “You’re not the emperor yet.”

Edelgard is quiet for a few moments before murmuring, “But someday I will be.”

The Goneril girl is too busy trying to tie the knot that is the key part of this here side ponytail, so Edelgard continues in a more hushed tone, “Maybe sooner than I should…” 

“Weeell… look, if Dimitri can ascend the throne as soon as he gets out of here, I don’t think there’s a wrong time for you to do the same,” Hilda says. “I mean, it’s what my father did with Holst. He’s alive and well, obviously, but my brother is just… more fit to be head of our family now. My old man says all he needs is to see his children married, and then he can die in peace.”

Unhappy with the weird angle of her work, Hilda undoes all of it and starts combing through the younger girl’s hair again. Edelgard sighs, “Marriage… now _that_ is a daunting subject.”

“Hmm, too true!” Hilda says, as at long last she gets Edelgard’s hair to cooperate. “Committing to someone forever and ever is just plain _weird_.” 

She had mixed emotions on the subject, if she was quite honest. She did not get to see her parents together before her mother’s early passing (and she’d seen firsthand her father still destroyed over it several years later), and Holst’s deep-rooted commitment issues were not the ideal role model either.

But, who knows? With Baltie back in their lives, maybe Holst would finally suck it up and ask his childhood friend ( _crush_ ) out.

“W-Wait just one moment,” Edelgard picks up on her dismissive tone and tries to twist around, “You misunderstood me. I meant daunting as in, organizing the _wedding_ and all it entails would be a pain– not marriage itself.”

She’s so insistent on ruining Hilda’s ponytail that she gives up and just lets her turn around completely. She’s surprised to see how earnest and troubled Edelgard looks over her half-baked opinion. 

It was kind of obvious the younger girl had a sort of romanticized version of her own parents, even if her mother was just one of the emperor’s many consorts and not his actual wife.

Hilda had a strong suspicion, a funny inkling of sorts, that judging from the other girl’s character, that she would be the first emperor without any concubines. 

Edelgard looks almost timid when she asks, “What are your thoughts on marriage?”

“On marriage _to you_?” Hilda laughs nervously. “Or-or just in general?”

“I did not say to _me_.” A blush spreads across the bridge of Edelgard’s nose, and after a short pause she frowns, “But would that be so terrible? Why are you laughing?”

Hilda herself had become too flustered to pretend to be aloof now, so she tries for sincerity, “Edelgard… you know, marrying _me_ would... would make me your _empress_ … like, are you aware of this? Empress of _all_ Adrestia?” 

“As it is customary for the person the Emperor weds to become Empress, _yes_ , I’m very much aware,” her tone is suddenly testy, and Hilda sees the dejection in her eyes. “It matters not, as I want to make it perfectly clear that this _wasn’t_ a proposal.”

She wants to tell her that it’s a sweet sentiment, truly, it _is_ , but they’re too young and their current relationship too rocky to even hypothetically discuss. 

Hilda needs to navigate herself out of these dangerous waters ASAP.

“That’s good, because right now the only proposal you need to be thinking about is my dancing one for the ball tonight,” Hilda winks and tries for a more light-hearted tone, desperately trying to talk about literally _anything else_. She takes one of Edelgard’s hands in hers and draws it into her lap, rubbing small circles on the back of it.

Although she still looks decidedly sulky, the corner of Edelgard’s mouth rises slightly, “Save one dance for me.”

Determined to get the other girl into a good mood again, she places a brief kiss to her pouty lips. When Hilda pulls away, she whispers, “And I’ll meet you in the Goddess Tower after?”

Her own conspiratorial smile mirrors Hilda’s as she says, “I will be there.”

Hilda claps and whoops, “Then it’s a date, Edelgard!”

The warmth of the moment spreads over both of them for several seconds before Edelgard speaks again. Hilda was afraid she was going to dip into _marriage_ again, but the subject matter surprises her more. “You always call me Edelgard.”

“Hey, don’t blame _me_ , that’s on Ionius for naming you that.” Hilda toys with Edelgard’s splayed fingers, “Do you dislike your name?”

“No, I–”

“ _Edie_ is cute. Isn’t that what Dorothea calls you? I could–”

“El,” Edelgard says, softly. “You may call me El, if you like.”

“ _El_ ,” Hilda tests it aloud. It perhaps doesn’t have the same powerful ring that the mouthful _Edelgard_ has, but it’s a lovely nickname regardless. 

The smile that splits her face makes Hilda’s heart swell.

* * *

Jeralt dies, and Leonie leaves.

It’s a weird time for everyone at the monastery, and that’s probably putting it lightly. After Monica– _no,_ Kronya– turned out to be some _creature_ that drove a knife through the small of the former Captain’s back, to say people were wary of Edelgard was an understatement.

She swore up and down that she did not know the redhead’s intentions, and from the sheer rage in her eyes when she spoke about it, Hilda believed her. 

Others thought she’d been too harsh when giving her version of condolences to Byleth, but she’d been the only one to spark something akin to human emotion back into the professor’s eyes, urging them to keep going and to rise up.

Regardless, Hilda keeps a healthy distance during this difficult time. Said difficult time is also further complicated by Hilda’s dummy brother poisoning himself with some bad ‘shrooms and pawing off his inheritance – _yes_ , the Hero’s Relic _Freikugel–_ to her charge.

Claude was ecstatic about the Golden Deer finally having one of the legendary weapons on their side again after Lorenz left and took Thyrsus with him, but Hilda is not so sure. 

She _really_ does not like wielding the axe. 

Besides being kind of a gross artifact that sometimes _pulsed_ in its own accord, it was also very much tainted as the trigger of her and Edelgard’s falling out all those months ago. When near it, the memory of the Crest of Flames going off and healing Edelgard was still all too vivid for her liking.

Despite of how she feels, Claude _insists_ that she should practice, and books the training grounds for just the two of them, much to Felix’s annoyance.

As much as she hates to admit it, Freikugel is like an extension of her arm. Although quite massive, she wields it like it weighs nothing, and cutting down dummy after training dummy is as easy as breathing.

When straw dummies stop being nothing more than butter to her, Claude, who had been watching with keen interest from the side, picks up a sword and spars with her some.

The bright green of her Crest of Goneril activates occasionally, preventing Claude’s counterattacks from dealing her any damage. It isn’t all that useful today, because her house leader’s head is somewhere far, far away and it’s a breeze to kick his ass over and over.

“I know I’m a delicate flower, but you could maybe try a little harder?” she grounds out as she parries one of his sword attacks with ease, “Where’s your head at?”

His swordplay is sloppy, and from the miserable look on his face he knows it too. Something was cooking in that complicated head of his, stealing his focus.

“It’s all part of the plan...” Claude tries to hit her with the flat end of his steel, and to both of their surprises, when she blocks it, Freikugel _breaks_ the sword, shattering it before their very eyes. “… or _not_.”

Hilda thinks it’s the perfect excuse to call it a day _–_ she was sweaty, and tired, and hungry, _and_ she had a… _study session_ planned in the library with a certain someone that she intended to keep.

“Well! That was super interesting, but I really need to go,” Hilda stretches some before she goes to ditch Freikugel as fast as she can.

She should probably store it in the armory, but she cannot bear to touch it one second longer. It’s not like anyone would dare steal the legendary weapon of House Goneril, right?

She waves, “See ya _–_ ”

“Hilda, wait.” Claude’s forehead is shiny with sweat too, and his overall _weird_ energy is making her nervous, but she stays. “Can you line up a couple of targets for me?”

As much as she wanted to retort with a _Do it yourself_ , something about the… _seriousness_ in his eyes makes her oblige. 

Her instincts had been right; something was definitely _up_.

She does as he asks, and lines up some empty clay pots at the far end of the still-empty training grounds. Probably a piece of cake, given Claude’s skill and the fact that the targets weren’t mobile, but she really wanted to get this over with.

Hilda watches from the side as he pulls out an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back and aims with one eye closed. Same old, same old, she’d watched him do it a billion times.

He lets the arrow fly...

It’s not even _close_.

“Wow,” Hilda claps slowly, “You suck.”

He nocks yet another arrow and aims, but his arms seem a little wobbly.

Claude’s next shot is _somehow_ worse than his first, and instead of doing something Claude-esque, such as blowing a raspberry or laughing good-naturedly, he curses loudly and almost snaps the bow over his knee in frustration.

Okay, something was wrong.

This behavior was _definitely_ not in character with who he was, or what his temperament was usually like. The pink-haired girl leaves the sidelines and goes to confront the future Duke in a huff.

“ _Claude_.” Hilda fixes the much taller boy with a glare. “If something’s bothering you, out with it.”

The muscles in Claude’s jaw work, but no sound comes out. He must have been picking his next words carefully.

Finally, his shoulders fall, and his expression is… deflated. “Rumor has it you’re leaving us for the Black Eagles sooner rather than later.”

“What? _Me_?” Hilda can’t help the little laugh that escapes her. “What gave you _that_ idea?”

“What gave me–? _Hilda_!” Claude looks borderline offended, like she just insulted his intelligence. He tosses his training bow to the side, letting it land in the dirt with a soft _thud_. “Maybe the fact that you’re with their house leader _all the time_? That you actually put in effort when you train against her, and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! _Claude_ –”

“–and everyone just _looks_ at me with this pity, like, _when is he gonna realize_? _He’s lost half his class already_ ; _something must be wrong with him_ –”

Hilda places a hand over the Riegan heir’s mouth, her eyes pleading, “Just stop talking, okay? Nobody’s saying that. Nobody _thinks_ that.”

“Also, the fact that you’re secretly hooking up with Edelgard is kind of a red flag,” he mumbles under her palm.

The older girl withdraws her hand, and in another world, she may have snapped at him for spiraling like that, but the wounded look in his face that he’s desperately trying to hide effectively stops her. 

Hilda takes a deep breath and manages to sound calmer than she felt. “I thought you were above listening to stupid rumors that are obviously _not_ true.”

It dawns on her then that what the poor boy needs is to be _reassured_. She hadn’t really considered the blows that students transferring to another class had dealt to his self-esteem. 

All of Dimitri’s friends from the Blue Lions had left, with the latest being Ingrid who joined the Black Eagles late into the Ethereal Moon, and the prince seemed relatively fine with only Dedue left.

Regarding their friend group, only Marianne and Hilda remained. And unfortunately, Hilda could not vouch for the Edmund girl as much as it pained her. Hilda worried every single day that all those gifted Lily of the Valley’s combined with Byleth’s impressive skill in riding would finally sway her dearest friend into transferring houses.

In light of the above, _of course_ the feeling of inadequacy was starting to mess with Claude’s head.

Hilda goes for the most sincere look she can manage, “Nothing’s wrong with you, Claude. And they’re not flocking over there because Edelgard’s cold, detached nature is suddenly _sooo_ appealing.” 

“It appealed to you… at least for other things,” Claude’s tone is mild, but not unkind. “ _Not_ holding it against you, by the way. _Just saying_.”

She ignores the feeble jab and continues, “The _reason_ they are transferring is because they’re drawn to Professor Byleth and nothing else. It’s not personal. So, stop beating yourself up about it.”

“Learning from Teach doesn’t appeal to you, though? You told me they asked after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and you turned them down… because things were crazy uncomfortable with Edelgard, but now…” Claude’s face is plagued by that insecurity once more. “Why do you stay?”

Hilda stares at him like he grew two heads. Did he really think so little of himself that…

She knew he felt like an outsider of sorts, what with his mysterious past and cryptic hints as to his true origins. Also, the contempt and suspicion he was treated with by all other members of the Alliance did do a number on his reputation… but none of that had ever mattered to Hilda. 

To Hilda, this was her _friend_ , her partner in crime, the guy that mirrored her smiles when she needed them most, who roamed the sky with her atop their wyverns, who _always_ had her back.

Dangerously so, she’d stopped looking over her shoulder in battle, because she knew in her heart that a deadly arrow would end the life of anyone seeking to harm her. 

Sharp green eyes were always watching over her nowadays.

“Because of _you_ , clown!” Hilda shoves him lightly by the shoulder, and underestimating her strength, the taller boy stumbles a few steps, a bewildered look on his face. 

She huffs. “And-and also I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be in the same house as Edelgard. For many reasons. Regardless of if we’re dating or not.”

“And Byleth?” Claude seems to be holding his breath.

“Well– I’m not gonna lie, they’re _super_ talented and I could learn a great deal from them,” Hilda says. She raises her eyes to meet Claude’s shiny ones, “But they’re _not you_.”

“Wow, Hilda… I thought confronting you with this was for sure going to push you into the BE’s waiting arms.” Claude confesses, suddenly bashful. He tucks his hands behind his head, his features softening. “I figured I’d just get it over with… I didn’t realize you liked little ol’ me _this_ much.”

She knew he was trying to be self-deprecating, as was his humor at times, but she genuinely wanted him to know how important he was to her. It was something she _felt_ rather than something she could explain with words… Edelgard herself had questioned her about it, and she’d shot down that conversation pretty fast. 

Her loyalty to Claude was her business, and her business only.

“Think of me as your Hubert– wait, _eww_ , no,” Hilda exaggerates a shudder. “Maybe your Dedue? Minus the blind devotion, and the fact that I can and _will_ call you a dumbass if you act like one.”

Claude definitely looks moved by her words, but as is his nature and his armor against the world, he immediately starts to deflect and change the subject before the moment can get _too_ heartwarming.

His stance relaxes significantly and one of his easy smiles slips onto his face. “So. You admit to dating the Imperial princess, huh?”

Besides his not-so-gentle teasing in Abyss after their “reconciliation” –and Hilda used that word very, _very_ loosely– she had not actually sat down with him to discuss the topic on a deeper level. She hadn’t even slowed down enough to reflect with her own self, truth be told. 

Maybe she was scared that if she dissected whatever this was, resentment towards Edelgard would bubble up again and ruin everything.

The conversation has been emotionally taxing enough already that Hilda does not want to engage further, but the training grounds remain empty, and her mind is suddenly blank of any feasible excuse to get out of this conversation.

“We’re seeing each other, yeah.” Is what she finally says, if albeit lamely. She can’t afford to provide Claude with the foothold he’s obviously looking for, so she resolves to provide short answers only.

“It’s nice that you forgave her after hurting you,” Claude tries for a neutral tone, but Hilda knew him well enough by now to know it’s anything _but_. 

He proceeds to casually retrieve his bow from where he’d tossed it, and lets his comment hang between them, leaving it to fester some. After that, he leisurely goes to pick up the arrow that had missed its target earlier. 

Unfortunately for her, his plan works, as Hilda takes the bait. “Hmm. You know, she never actually apologized.”

Sure, Edelgard _did_ reveal a lot of secrets she’d held close to her heart, and bared a lot of her soul, but she hadn’t _really_ apologized for the rest. She’d _explained_ herself, yes, with her usual calculated logic, but she had definitely _not_ delved into the emotional stuff. 

Water under the bridge?

Claude swallows. “Hilda–”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” she deadpans. Her refined instincts could detect an incoming lecture before it was even delivered, thanks to Holst and Seteth.

She turns her back to him and goes to the far wall rack to retrieve her own weapon of choice. Hilda ignores the pulsing Freikugel still mocking her in the corner of the training grounds and goes for something a little more classic. The pink-haired girl opts for a shiny steel axe and effortlessly hoists it over her shoulder.

Even though she senses him hovering, she pays him no mind, and approaches one of the straw dummies. Goddess, look at her, willingly _training_ and getting herself sweaty just to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. Claude trails after her, muttering under his breath and dragging his feet.

Hilda tests the balance of her weapon before striking, cleanly slicing one of the practice dummy’s arms off. She pointedly ignores the Golden Deer leader’s presence behind her, who’s silently demanding her attention once again.

She pretends he’s not there.

It works for a few minutes, probably because he’s relishing in the fact that she’s actually putting in work for a change, even if the ultimate goal of it is to avoid him.

“I don’t get it. I really don’t.” He finally speaks. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Claude’s fingers dig into his hair. “You’re all bubbly, and she’s- she’s an ice queen.”

“Ice emperor,” Hilda quips, still not looking at him. 

She swings, finally decapitates the dummy.

“I– _what_?”

“I think being accurate is important, is all.” 

Claude’s eyes narrow playfully, “I will destroy you.” 

At long last she spins around to face him, and the corner of her mouth quirks up. They settle into a comfortable silence until Claude’s antsy energy flares up again. She feels his eyes bore into her soul, but she does not drop his gaze. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

It felt nice that he trusted her judgement, despite his personal reservations. She wished Hubert Idiot-von-Vestra could take notes on letting two people be their own version of happy, without feeling the need to threaten them almost daily. She kind of understood his protectiveness over his beloved Lady Edelgard, but at the same time it was exhausting to put up with.

“You and me both, buddy.”

Finally, his whole face lights up with one of his _real_ smiles, and Hilda instinctively hugs him, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his earthy scent. 

The moment is interrupted by someone stumbling into the training grounds, the doors groaning on their hinges with the force used to push them open.

A distressed Marianne runs in, almost in tears. 

Upon seeing her, Hilda immediately flings herself away from the taller boy’s frame and catches her closest friend in another embrace, “ _Marianne_?!” 

“M-May I… May I please… talk?” she looks like she’s been crying, and then with a weak croak, “With b-both of you?”

She feels Claude tense behind her, but every nerve on her body is focused solely on whatever is upsetting Marianne and how to immediately remedy it.

“Marianne, Marianne, it’s okay!” Hilda cups her face in both hands, “Of course we can talk!”

“Has that asshole from town been saying you’re cursed again?!” Claude very rarely gets angry, but his eyes flash dangerously. “Because if that’s the case, I can–”

“N-No… I’m… I…” Marianne’s voice is usually in the quiet spectrum, but today she breaks her own record when almost imperceptibly she mumbles, “I just...finished t-talking with Professor Byleth…”

It’s not necessary for her to finish.

Hilda’s been punched in the gut before, and it feels exactly the same as she does now– it’s a swift, unexpected blow, driving all the air from her lungs.

“O-Oh…”

Her eyes meet Claude’s over her shoulder, and all he offers in response is the most heartbreaking half-smile she’s ever seen.

* * *

When Edelgard sneaks into her room a couple of days before Hilda’s birthday early into the Pegasus Moon, she knows it must be serious. 

Usually, the Adrestian noble is vehemently against stepping foot into Hilda’s messy room – _organized_ mess, thank you very much, but still– there must be an underlying urgency to her visit that could not wait.

However, she does not come forward right away with whatever is on her mind, as Edelgard tended to choose her words carefully. Hilda doesn’t really mind, because, you know, they say patience is a virtue.

She hands Hilda a small package, carefully wrapped in a dark material. “Hubert didn’t have any pink paper,” the younger girl says. “He sends his regards.”

“How _nice_ of him,” Hilda can’t even muster up her dislike for the other girl’s retainer because she’s just _so excited_.

She giddily pulls the present into her lap and starts to tear it open. Almost as an afterthought, she says, “Is… there a reason you aren’t giving this to me on Tuesday?”

Edelgard bites her lip.

Ah, there it is.

“I… am leaving with Hubert and Professor Byleth for the Imperial capital tomorrow. We won’t be back until Thursday at the earliest.”

Before Hilda can finish unwrapping her gift, she stops, and from her spot on the carpet looks up at the princess who’s perched on the chair. “To Enbarr?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Not that she had been making much eye contact before, but now Edelgard drops it entirely. Her hands are bunched in her lap, nervous. “There is something I must do.”

It’s hard to mask her disappointment. Hilda is torn between busying herself with the contents of the present or continuing to press Her Highness for more concrete answers she knows she’s unlikely to get.

Things had been going _so well_ between them lately. They had finally found a good midpoint between their pretty opposite personalities, and believe it or not, they balanced each other in ways Hilda didn’t think they would ever be compatible in.

Edelgard’s workaholic tendencies and her drive were finally starting to rub off on Hilda, getting her to actually try instead of staying safely in her comfort zone.

In contrast, Hilda’s laid-back and fun disposition worked wonders in relaxing Edelgard and helping her center herself when she pushed herself too far or too much.

But all of the good also came with some… weirdness.

Every day, Edelgard became more political, more _intense_ with her questions and her viewpoints, and got increasingly frustrated with Hilda’s neutrality on almost all subjects.

She had even sent _Hubert_ on occasion to badger her with ridiculous scenarios, as if testing her. Judging from his unending sneers, she’d failed them all… not that she cared. Gaining Hubert’s approval was laughably low on her list of priorities.

Wordlessly, she finishes unwrapping the gift, and it’s… it’s a small canvas.

It’s a portrait of Hilda, painted by hand.

The lines and technique are leagues different from Ignatz’s work, but _obviously_ not in a bad way. Every artist had their own unique style, and this seemed so inherently _Edelgard_ in every lovely trace and detail that Hilda is overwhelmed with affection for the other girl. 

She had certainly not expected something so… personal. Edelgard had the money to just buy her whatever she wanted. She could have slapped something together last minute with a splash of gold and called it a day.

She recalled that Edelgard’s gift to her beloved teacher Byleth had been some random pendant, nowhere near as thoughtful as _this_.

Hilda could tell time and effort had been poured into this piece, and no amount of gold could rival it.

She feels her eyes fill with tears as she squeals, bringing the portrait close to her chest. Edelgard, who had retreated into a corner of her own mind, is startled by the sound, and jumps up from the chair, so she finally sees that her gift is out in the open.

“A-Are you crying?”

“I love it!” Hilda’s still hugging the canvas and she’s looking up at Edelgard with a watery smile. “Thank you so much.”

Edelgard looks relieved, and seems to be fighting a blush, as she says, “I’m glad you like it, terrible as it may be–”

“ _Hey_! Stop that! It’s perfect and I _adore it_ ,” Hilda holds it up as she obsesses over the delicate, thoughtful strokes.

Even the colors she had picked were different to the shades Ignatz rolled with when he used to paint her for practice. The palette Edelgard picked was more muted, but they were _really_ pretty colors nonetheless. 

“I suppose I can cancel the contingency plan I had in case you hated it,” Edelgard says it with one of her very rare, kind of goofy smiles, the type you wouldn’t expect her usually cold exterior to be capable of, and yet it lights her whole face up, and Hilda’s _positively smitten_.

Hilda places her portrait safely on the yellow bedspread and motions with a finger, “C’mere.”

Edelgard wastes no time in scooping her up from the ground and hoisting her up, and Hilda wraps her legs around the other girl’s waist with a giggle. She loops her arms around her neck and brings their mouths together.

The princess presses her against the wall, and then breaks their kiss to start nuzzling the underside of Hilda’s jaw, then her neck. Her affectionate ministrations are quickly replaced by her lips planting kisses along all visible skin, making Hilda squirm. 

She bites back a moan when Edelgard starts sucking on her pulse point, adding some teeth, and Hilda knows the other noble was intent on leaving a mark. Edelgard’s little lovebites were getting increasingly hard to hide with makeup, because she almost _always_ missed a spot, and Dorothea and Sylvain became _insufferable_ the rest of the day when _that_ happened.

The older girl tries to muffle another sound when Edelgard’s teeth scrape along sensitive skin, and dark lavender eyes rise to pin her with a hungry look, “ _Don’t_. I want to hear you.”

“S-Sorry for not wanting Marianne to hear you fucking me over the wall!” Hilda murmurs back, her face on fire. The wall she’d been pushed up against was _not_ the one next to Edelgard’s empty room, but rather Marianne’s very much inhabited one. 

“Is that what I’m doing?” Edelgard has the stupidest grin on her face, one that Hilda desperately wants to see _gone_. She both loved and hated when she was like this, playful and cocky all at once. 

She narrows her eyes, “You little shi– _ah_!”

Hilda yelps when Edelgard cups her between the legs, sending a spike of electricity up her spine, and since she’s bracketed in between the other girl and the wall, she can’t very well do much but pant and glare.

“You’re being so _mean_ to me on _my_ _birthday_ ,” Hilda whines. 

Yes, she was the type of person to consider the entirety of their birth month as their _Birthday_ , capital B. Holst had jokingly dubbed the _Pegasus Moon_ as _Hilda Fest_ back home, where she had a different celebration almost weekly.

The younger girl hums, “If you weren’t so bratty...” Edelgard’s hands travel away from between her thighs and under her once again, now dangerously close to her ass. She kisses the corner of Hilda’s mouth before adding, “It’s Sunday, so _technically_ still not your birthday, love.”

Hilda often used pet names with the only purpose of flustering Edelgard or to use them in a sarcastic but affectionate way, whilst anytime Edelgard let one slip it was _always_ so tender and genuine it truly made the Goneril girl melt a little. 

She may have to reevaluate her use of the pet names.

Before her face can get any redder, Hilda initiates another kiss, and her heart does a somersault when she feels Edelgard smiling into it, unable to control herself. 

When Hilda’s getting too breathless to continue, Edelgard breaks it and goes right back to what she’d been doing before– namely, bruising up her neck.

But at the worst possible moment, something blares at the front of Hilda’s brain and demands her immediate attention.

Even if every part of her screams at her to ignore it, their previous conversation is still ringing in the paranoid part of her brain, and there’s something about it that’s not sitting well with her.

It physically pains her, but she pulls Edelgard back by her hair long enough to ask, “What are you doing in Enbarr with Byleth?”

For a second Edelgard’s eyes are unfocused, but they quickly sober up. “I– I need them as a witness on behalf of the Church.”

She ducks her head to continue showering affection on Hilda’s neck, but unsatisfied with her response, the older girl tugs her away again. “And?”

“ _And_ I can’t very well ask the Archbishop, now, can I?” the previous arousal in Edelgard’s eyes is starting to be replaced by annoyance, “Their connection to the goddess Sothis will suffice for the business I have to attend.”

Her gloved fingers are still digging into Hilda’s calves, and she _knows_ she’s absolutely killing the mood with her questions, _she knows_ , and she hates herself for it, because this had been shaping up to be pretty hot, but her curiosity was far greater.

She’s about to ask _and what business is that_ , but Edelgard’s demanding mouth is on hers again, pushing past the seal of her lips and claiming what’s hers. Hilda whimpers into the kiss and holds Edelgard’s face between her hands, lost in a haze of pleasure.

Somewhere in the far corner of her mind, big bold red letters warn her that Edelgard took out a page from Hilda’s book: she had distracted her with kisses to avoid uncomfortable conversations.

And it had worked.

*** * ***

Edelgard is unusually cuddly the next morning.

If she wasn’t enjoying herself so much, Hilda would start to think it _suspicious_. 

_Clingy_ is _not_ a word she would have ever thought appropriate to describe Edelgard with, but it really felt like the younger girl was scared that if she stopped touching Hilda for even a second, then she would vaporize from the face of the earth.

The Adrestian was acting like the world was ending, like she absolutely had to make every moment count. It definitely reeked of _something_ , but for the life of her Hilda could not place her finger on exactly _what_.

She doesn’t even berate Hilda for skipping the 8AM class to stay with her in bed, which is _very_ out of character. She’s almost tempted to check her forehead for a fever, but she knows the gesture would not be appreciated.

Instead, the older girl burrows her head in the back of Edelgard’s neck, holding her loosely by the waist, “What time are you leaving?”

“Noon,” she replies absently, tracing her fingers along the muscle of Hilda’s toned arms. She’d been making lazy circles for a while now, and it was surprisingly soothing.

Hilda can’t help but still feel a bit upset, partly because she wouldn’t be here for her birthday and partly because she was being so cryptic as to the reason.

“You’re going to miss Claude’s stupid jokes about me being ancient, and old enough to be his grandmother.” 

“Oh, no.” Edelgard’s tone is dry as can be. “How shall I ever survive without _those_?”

She knew her to have a bit of a sweet tooth, so she goes for the jugular. 

“You’re _also_ going to miss out on _all_ the birthday cake,” Hilda laments. “Lysithea’s going to eat it by herself.”

Edelgard grips her wrist as if alarmed, “ _Hilda_!”

Hilda can’t help but smile, as the other girl’s playful mood from last night seems to have carried on over to the morning. She nudges at her nape until Edelgard turns around, and Hilda kisses her slowly, sweetly.

The imperial princess crawls on top of her and stays there, staring down with a lazy little smile, the type she rarely allowed herself. Her white hair is parted in the middle, making her look older without her usual purple-ribbon look.

“Can I tell you something and you’ll promise not to be insufferable about it?”

“You have my word.”

“You really are gorgeous.”

The reaction is immediate and Edelgard’s cheeks flush pink, and she averts her gaze.

While Hilda had absolutely no problem throwing out compliments and honeyed words at everyone else, few were genuine, and she could count in one hand how many times these had been directed at Edelgard herself. 

The reason being, she always, _always_ meant them with her.

“Aw, don’t look away! It’s bad enough you’ll be gone for most of the week,” Hilda gently strokes the soft curve of her jaw, “But at least we’ll have the rest of the year, huh?” 

Edelgard swallows, and – _oh_ – something akin to guilt mars those eyes, but it’s masked so fast that Hilda almost thinks she imagined it.

Almost.

Before Hilda can do something potentially catastrophic –such as further dissecting that tiny facial reaction to give it some deeper meaning–, Edelgard kisses her again, this time fierce in her movement, and Hilda sees stars from the intensity of it.

“It’ll never be enough time,” she says, a little breathless, when they part. Edelgard suddenly looks so… _sad_ , it’s like she’s not leaving for a few days, but for good.

And Hilda stares, confused. “El?”

Why had that kiss tasted like a definitive goodbye?

Edelgard doesn’t respond, but tears have welled up in her eyes.

* * *

Rhea assembled one _strange_ team to assist in receiving the revelation from the goddess. The mission was not assigned to one class and their respective teacher, but it was rather a collaboration between them, and it marked the second time in her life that Hilda would be teaming up and fighting alongside Professor Byleth.

The Black Eagles teacher had not missed the opportunity to try and charm their way into her good graces, earning an eye roll from Claude as they were getting ready to visit the holy resting place of the goddess.

Byleth had gifted her an anemone, her favorite –fresh from the greenhouse, they said– for “luck.” They weren’t as subtle as they thought they were, she knew exactly what they were after; that their ultimate goal was to get her to join their class by the end of this mission.

She was very flattered by the attention, but her heart would remain golden for as long as Claude lived and breathed. 

Perhaps even beyond.

Edelgard, for whatever reason, had not come along… maybe Byleth or Rhea did not want two axe users for this mission? Either way, it was _weird_ being on the same side again as some of the former Golden Deer... Lorenz and Lysithea were acting quite sheepish around her and Claude. 

To dissipate some of the awkwardness, she hugged them both and brought up old inside jokes, happy to be on the same side again, at least for this mission. It put them at ease, but Claude still acted guarded, especially towards Lorenz.

The mission itself appeared to be a bust. The Holy Tomb was every bit as creepy as she’d come to expect after her share of secret-church-places, courtesy of her experience in Abyss. 

The place had an eerie green hue to its stones, walls, you name it, not to mention the sinister vibe of the overall atmosphere. As far as holy places to house the remains of their creator went, it honestly kind of sucked.

Hilda could not wait to leave and never visit again.

Things got entertaining when Rhea started to have a meltdown over Byleth not receiving so much as the time of day from the goddess when they sat on the throne.

Their blank stare in response to Rhea’s tirade was honestly kind of hilarious.

 _Then_ things got flat-out crazy when they were apparently followed down into the Holy Mausoleum by none other than the Imperial army _and_ the Flame Emperor. 

Not only that, but the clown with the bad haircut they had faced in Abyss months ago seemed to be one of their mysterious enemies’ commanders. Hilda still bore the scar from that Brave Sword of his after it nicked her on the shoulder.

She felt dread pool in her stomach at the sight of them and wondered if the Empire’s Prime Minister or any of his lackeys could be behind this. After the Insurrection years ago, she figured Ferdinand’s father was capable of anything.

She thought her newly entrusted Freikugel would not get to see any action for this mission, but _boy_ had she been wrong.

The race to protect the Crest Stones was on.

*** * ***

Hilda had not expected to be the first to reach the Flame Emperor alongside Byleth.

They had dealt with the Imperial soldiers trying to steal the Crest Stones perfectly well, and now the rest of the team was cleaning up and dealing with the stragglers. 

Dorothea’s dancing had greatly boosted Byleth’s movement, so they easily kept up with Hilda’s wyvern in time to deal with the fearsome Flame Emperor once and for all.

Hilda quickly dispatched their commander _–Metodey_ , or something, was his name? she didn’t really stop and ask before bludgeoning him to death–, she was sure to avoid his poisonous weapon, which would have probably caused her problems down the line had she been hit.

Her wyvern sweeps in just in time to find Byleth locked in combat with the Flame Emperor, their strikes fast and relentless, a flurry of blows with no clear winner as of yet.

That changes when the former mercenary’s pale green eyes shine with that fire that captivated the hearts and minds of so many students, and they pull out the Sword of the Creator.

They unleash the move they dubbed “Ruptured Heaven”, and the legendary sword uncoils in a whip-like fashion that deals tremendous damage to their year-long enemy.

Hilda wonders if the being behind the Flame Emperor persona was a creature similar to Kronya and Solon, another of their kind, with the unnatural pale skin and the vacant stare. 

The energy of the blow from the Sword of the Creator chips the corner of the Flame Emperor’s mask– revealing a very human, very alarmed eye.

A familiar eye.

Hilda feels her hands start to shake and the reins from her wyvern fall from her hands. In fact, she slips off her mount entirely and feels her jaw drop open.

The shade of those eyes, the lilac of them, she had loved them, and she had hated them, and right now she _really_ hoped they were not staring back.

Another strike shatters the white and red mask entirely, and whatever device was altering their enemy’s voice is destroyed, because the cry of pain is a girl’s. 

And so is the hair.

And the face.

“Is this some sick joke?” Claude had finally circled around, and he immediately hops off from his wyvern’s back and rushes to join them, “The Flame Emperor is actually Edelgard?!”

And there, her brow bleeding from Byleth’s attacks, at a whopping five foot two, stands the leader of the Black Eagle house.

 _Edelgard was the Flame Emperor_.

*** * ***

Hilda feels numb and so, _so_ incredibly _stupid_ , it’s like she’s trapped in a dream, –more like a _nightmare_ – and it vaguely feels like this must be happening to someone else.

She almost does not hear the Archbishop’s outrage, but her voice is so hateful it manages to break through her haze.

_Professor, kill Edelgard at once._

Even if the command is not directed at her, Rhea’s chilling words still feel like a punch to the throat to Hilda, and breathing suddenly becomes very difficult for her, like something was obstructing her windpipe.

Edelgard barely flinches at the Archbishop’s order. The cut above her eyebrow is bleeding profusely as head wounds tend to do, making it hard to read her exact expression with the crimson streaking her face, but if Hilda had to guess she would say it’s a mix between resignation and fierce pride. 

Her eyes are stormy even when faced with her untimely death.

_Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating._

How many times had Hilda laid down her head against Edelgard’s chest, and listened to the soft, steady murmur of her heart? How dare this woman demand the world be deprived of such a gift?

The venom in the archbishop’s voice pretty much shatters any innocent or positive image Hilda held in her head of the holy woman. 

The Adrestian looks beat up, but not defeated – _far from defeated_ – and Hilda loathes the way her own heart is suddenly unbearably heavy inside her ribcage, and if adrenaline alone wasn’t holding her legs up, she probably would have collapsed from the weight of it all.

Edelgard…

She looked so small, her dainty frame swimming in the bulking black armor of the Flame Emperor. In stark contrast, her light hair was still adorned with twin purple ribbons, gifted by Hilda eons ago one winter day.

Hilda was seeing no doubt what Byleth was, too.

A young girl, barely eighteen, who had endured and suffered more than any human at any age should have. Who saw what Crests did to this world, to its people, and decided it had to change for the benefit of humanity.

From afar, she’d witnessed her be a steadfast leader and a reliable friend. Up close and personal, Hilda had been privy to her vulnerable, intimate side– as well as to her contempt and her rage, her compassion and also her grief.

Perfectly flawed, and perfectly human.

All things the church was not.

She feels her grip on Freikugel slack, until a gust of wind would have probably been able to knock it from her hands. For a split second, Edelgard’s eyes dart over to the barely-there movement, and in the same subtle manner they soften by a fraction with understanding.

She knew, then, that Hilda would not attack her.

But it’s with a _tiny_ , if albeit reluctant nod of acknowledgement that she accepts that Hilda would not be interfering, either.

A gargantuan resolve must have been building inside Byleth Eisner’s mind, because in one swift movement they round on Rhea, putting themselves between Fódlan’s holy archbishop and the Flame Emperor, Sword of the Creator raised in defiance.

“You…” Rhea’s pupils are now unnatural black slits in a pool of seafoam green, “ _How dare you_!”

Hilda could not help but admire just how gutsy the former mercenary was, turning their sword against the head of the Church like that, armed only with a sword and an unshakable belief in one young revolutionary.

“You told me to guide them... I did as you asked of me _._ ” Byleth’s voice is almost a growl, and Hilda had never seen their usually stoic face pinched with so much emotion. “She is the future of this land.”

“My teacher, I– _thank you_!” Edelgard looks beyond shocked, not to mention that her eyes are suddenly teary, and her tone is so, so hopeful. “But are you certain that–” she stops herself with a shake of her head, “No, now isn't the time for discussion.”

Like clockwork, Hubert materializes beside the two in a swirl of darkness, a genuine grin splitting his usually stern face, “Words cannot properly express my gratitude, Professor.”

Just as Rhea starts to yell at Byleth some more about them being just another failure and a disgrace, –and some disturbing stuff about ripping out their heart, _hello_!?–, for one final time, Edelgard’s eyes find Hilda’s, silently asking her to choose. 

_To choose her_.

And Hilda considers it.

She entertains the thought, even for a couple of seconds, of hoisting up Freikugel over her shoulder and stepping the invisible line that Byleth had just crossed.

Would it be worth it, if only to see Edelgard’s expression? To see _Rhea’s_?

Another part of her whispers, _to see Claude’s_?

And she stops considering it immediately.

No, she would not –she _could not_ – do that to him. She was physically unable to hurt that boy where it counted. She couldn’t possibly explain this to anyone, not to Edelgard, not Claude –not even _herself_ – but that’s just the way she was hardwired, the way things were meant to be.

Hilda would be there for him, always, for as long as he would let her.

With a heavy heart, she shifts her body just enough so that she’s clearly standing closer to the taller boy’s frame, silently answering the Emperor’s request.

The disappointment in Edelgard’s eyes is fleeting as a far more pressing matter demands her attention– Rhea’s glowing a sickly green, and pale white scales are quickly forming around her jaw, clawing up her neck. 

Ivory horns sprout from her head, and her teeth are replaced by all canines. 

As Rhea’s gruesome transformation continues to alter her body and Hilda’s sanity finally starts to fizzle out, Hubert chuckles without humor, “That must be the Immaculate One.”

Hilda’s fried brain vaguely recalls a story of Claude having some banned diagram of a dragon confiscated by Seteth, and the name _the Immaculate One_ being involved.

The Archbishop of the Church, the holy woman that oversaw their education at Garreg Mach Monastery, the leader of the Knights of Seiros, is one giant, terrifying lizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -heyy sorry about the wait!! law school finals were kicking my ass but we made it
> 
> -i had to combine CF and VW routes for this one (the only valid routes) and i think it worked out good that way.
> 
> -as some of you may know, ao3 wasn't sending out emails, in my experience all of em were going to spam, though i do hope everyone got the notif for this one!!
> 
> -2 chapters left! initially i had a Not Good ending planned, but i'm starting to lean more towards a bittersweet one, idk yet though it's still up in the air. let me have yours thoughts on this!


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *more violence than usual but it's not too bad

**8**

Garreg Mach was on fire, and ash fell from the sky like it was rain.

After the course of the battle did not seem to be going their way, with Imperial forces overwhelming them faster than they could regroup, defending the Monastery became a fool’s dream. 

Rhea did a repeat of her deeply unsettling trick of morphing into a monster and launched a direct attack against Byleth Eisner when they had her cornered. 

The Immaculate One sent the young teacher’s body flying away and out of sight as easily as tossing a ragdoll, and did not stop her assault even then. She stomped around indiscriminately around the ruins of the school, killing enemies and allies alike. 

It was then that Claude called for a strategic retreat.

All of the original Black Eagles had rallied behind their house leader and taken up arms against the church. It definitely was a blow to morale when the faculty – _and some Knights of Seiros_!–, namely Hanneman, Shamir, Manuela and Alois, marched along their ranks, as well as a significant amount of Blue Lions.

Lysithea had wholeheartedly decided to follow, too. Despite what the Empire had done to her as a child, she probably knew her best chance of stopping it from ever happening again was to ally herself with Edelgard, who shared her unique horrific experience. 

With Byleth gone, Lorenz, Ignatz, Raphael, Leonie and Marianne quickly join back up with them, and under literally any other circumstances, Hilda would have been overjoyed, but it was truly terrible timing.

Along with the remaining Knights of Seiros, they organize the escaping parties of students, dividing themselves in carriages, wyverns, horses, carts, anything that could serve as transport.

They flee north, and the compromise is that the caravan of refugees will split up once they reach Galatea territory which is a fair middle ground between both countries. From there, the Golden Deer would make their way to Alliance territory and into friendly Daphnel land. 

After that, Hilda would have to figure out how to get home to Fódlan’s Throat, which is unfortunately all the way to the far east.

After the exhausting battle, all Hilda had wanted to do was curl up in Marianne’s lap and cry a little, but the stuffy Knights of Seiros in charge of the evacuation efforts decided that the house leader’s retainer should travel with their lord in an exclusive carriage, so it meant sharing a ride with Dimitri and Dedue.

Normally, she would not have minded this, if not for the fact that said prince had gone batshit crazy after Edelgard’s declaration of war as well as the distribution of her manifesto exposing the church.

Speaking of her manifesto, Edelgard’s planned system revolving around people’s merit and hard work made her stomach turn unpleasantly. The new world order she had planned didn’t reward people like Hilda.

She was a big enough person that she could reluctantly agree that the current system didn’t work for everyone. Hilda had been friendly with Caspar von Bergliez (he’d always been so eager to help her out, so nice!) but his overall life situation as a second-born son sucked. Because of crests and the status quo, his unimpressive older brother was destined to inherit everything, deservedly or not, leaving Caspar not much room to climb up in life.

On situations like that, she could maybe admit that Edelgard had a point… but why should a person’s worth be based on what they can contribute? Where did that leave the weak, the elderly, the sick, the indisposed? She felt vindicated in her decision to stay by Claude’s side, even if she did get the feeling some of Edelgard’s ideals were not so far removed from his own.

Unfortunately, she can’t freely tap into his thoughts and discuss it in more detail, because they were stuck with the Blue Lions pair, and one of them was _a little sensitive_ regarding the Edelgard subject.

“ _I will have her head_!” Dimitri bellows, for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

It was getting old fast.

Hilda had always figured the guy was sort of a ticking time bomb, you know, from watching all his loved ones die as a kid in a gruesome massacre, but witnessing the soft-spoken prince become completely unhinged before her very eyes was truly a sight to behold.

As had become their custom for the past couple of hours, crowded together in the makeshift refugee carriage, they ignore him. 

At least, Claude and Hilda do a pretty good job of it. Ever the enabler, Dedue sometimes graces his crazy outbursts with a response or even worse, _encouragement_. 

“She’s responsible for the Tragedy of Duscur!” he sounds like a wounded beast, blue eyes shattered of any emotion that isn’t pain or hatred.

Now _that’s_ something she takes issue with.

“Oh, and you’re certain of that?” Hilda drawls. Against her better judgement, part of her jumps to defend the young revolutionary. “How old was she when _that_ happened? Barely fourteen?”

“Age is of no consequence,” Dedue murmurs, but it’s like he’s parroting something someone told him instead of coming to his own conclusions.

Hilda ignores him. “Do tell, between being tortured underground and being used as a pawn by Lord Arundel, when did she have time to orchestrate _that_? And to what end?”

Claude looks completely stunned, but Dimitri simply gnashes his teeth like the animal Felix always claimed him to be, “Fool! She’s in your head, too!”

It’s like he didn’t even hear her, or didn’t want to. Dedue’s eyes widen by a fraction (must have been the first time he heard some sound logic and not Dimitri’s conspiracy theories regarding the Tragedy), but he remains stoic as ever. His devotion to his liege is in equal parts admirable and disturbing. 

Perhaps more of the latter. 

She tunes out the rambling that ensues on behalf of the prince, and Claude wraps an arm around her shoulders. Softly, he asks, “Is that true? About Edelgard?”

Hilda sinks into the comfort of his embrace, her voice equally low, “She got experimented on, like Lys.”

Claude’s breath catches and she feels him gulp, “Well, well. The Emperor of Adrestia bears two crests. Oh, wow. Oh, that explains _tons_.”

Thankfully, Dimitri seems to have tired himself out, because he lets his head hang as if asleep, but he’s shaking, and probably wide awake. It’s actually very sad to watch, because, _lo and behold_ , apparently, he – _get this_ – not only had a crush on Edelgard, but they were _step siblings_. 

Yes, while he raged and howled in the confines of the carriage, Dimitri had disclosed that Edelgard’s mother, Patricia, had married the late King. He’d _also_ accused her of causing their deaths, but Hilda took that last bit with a grain of salt.

She knew the other girl had severe memory problems from the horrifying ordeal she went through as a child – _Seiros, her hair turned permanently white from the stress and torture of it all_ – but it was still a pretty shocking thing to forget. No wonder Dimitri seemed so damaged.

Hilda could not catch a break, apparently.

However, Claude had been an absolute sweetheart through it all. He’d been pretty understanding with her ever since… the reveal. He’s been patient, and kind, and had not pushed her to speak even as their school went up in flames.

But now, in the warmth of the carriage and with Dimitri finally _quiet_ so she can _think_ , she feels ready. “Claude?”

“Mhm?” 

“I didn’t know she was… you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You do?”

Claude sighs. “Hubert probably had you assessed since day one. My guess is, he did not deem you trustworthy enough to reveal their plans from the start, and unlikely to join them. And Edelgard accepted his judgement.”

Hilda scoffs, mainly because she’s annoyed the lanky clown had read her so well. Although she could certainly empathize with the cause, she just could _not_ picture herself being involved in any of it. Edelgard’s manifesto had revealed some pretty shocking truths about the church, but it did not mean Hilda was too keen on toppling a system that benefited her. 

And Hubert immediately recognized that, wow. Props to him.

She tilts her head back and stares at the velvet ceiling of the carriage, “I still feel like a moron.”

“Hey, she didn’t even tell _Teach_! And Edelgard loves them.” Claude squeezes her closer, “I mean, apparently she had Ferdinand’s and Bernadetta’s fathers arrested! So, the Black Eagles didn’t know, either. You weren’t the only one blindsided here.”

The mention of the former mercenary sends a chill up her spine, and not the good kind.

“I wonder if Byleth survived the fall into the center of the earth,” if she closes her eyes, she can still picture their broken body falling down the ravine after Rhea’s devastating attack. No human could survive _that_.

Goddess, Edelgard must have been sick with grief.

 _Don’t think about her! Stop caring!_ She wishes the part of her that _felt_ things could just obey the part of her that was still somewhat capable of rational thought. Alas, since _that_ was not possible, her whole body just _ached_ , and not necessarily from their last battle.

“ _I hate her_ ,” Hilda voices it, but even as she does, she knows it’s not true. If anything, she’s _worried_ , and even worse; _heartsick_.

Unfortunately for her, those seem to be the magic words, because Dimitri’s head jerks up and the madness emanating from him is almost palpable, “ _The dead must have their due_!”

She’d been so immersed in her conversation with Claude, she forgot they were still sharing a carriage with the guy whose life was controlled by ghosts. Dedue might as well not have been there, because he was silent as a grave.

“Oh, you’ve set him off again,” Claude rolls his eyes, and points at the taller boy’s shaking form, “That’s where hatred’s going to get you, Hilda. That’s what it looks like. It is not a pretty path. Is that what you want?”

Hilda never thought she would recoil from the heir to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, but she does. He is almost unrecognizable from the polite young man he once was, and clearly the demons that haunted him were just getting started.

“Don’t get it twisted, him and I are _not_ the same,” it takes everything within her not to call him _boar_. “I don’t go around screaming how I’ll separate Edelgard’s head from her neck.”

If Dimitri cares, or knows that he’s being talked about, he makes no indication of it. Again, he’s all too busy being tormented by his own memories of the past to actually engage with the living. 

It was hard not to feel sorry for him.

“Fair enough. But, claiming you hate her is a start,” Claude points out. “And it’s especially worrisome when you know it’s a lie.”

Hilda brings the heel of her palms up to her eyes and rubs them, wishing for this cursed day to be over. “You don’t know how I feel. Shut up.”

Surprisingly, he listens, abstaining himself from further comment, and places a sloppy kiss to the top of her head that reminds her of Holst. 

Goddess, after _this_ suckfest she could not _wait_ to see his goofy face again. Hopefully, his _healthy_ face, because the last time she saw him he’d been poisoned and weak and acting like he was dying– and her older brother was _not_ allowed to die. Not ever.

They ride in silence for the rest of the journey, and Hilda drifts in and out of a restless sleep that shows her a world in which Byleth chose to lead the Golden Deer, and Lysithea had dark hair, where nobody left and nobody was hurt, and Edelgard von Hresvelg did not exist.

The dream wasn’t half bad.

She’s startled awake by the driver’s rough voice, “Galatea territory up ahead, m’lords!”

*** * ***

Galatea is a wasteland, a land of hard, rocky soil where no crops seem to grow. Even so, the barren and dull landscape is leagues preferable to the ruin of hellfire that had become Garreg Mach.

Hilda is glad to slip out of the carriage and escape Dimitri’s company at long last. He had grown increasingly aggressive the further they got from the monastery, demanding they turn back around immediately so he could go ‘ _kill that woman_.’

It had been a little off putting, to say the least.

“Well, Dimitri, I certainly hope you will join us for talks regarding the strategy against the Empire,” Claude’s diplomatic training shines through, “We will be stronger together, friend.”

Dimitri’s eyes are downcast, and he offers a noncommittal shrug. Since Claude’s plan did not include the words ‘ _stick Edelgard’s head on a pike_ ’ he probably was not very interested in joining forces.

“He’ll be there,” Sylvain quips, his copper eyes narrowing at his liege. “We’ll make sure.”

Hilda wondered if the Gautier heir was regretting his decision of sticking by his lord. The guy’s life had been pretty much ruined by the crest system– joining Edelgard would have been only natural, but clearly, he’d been in on it for their hot professor and not the house leader’s ideals.

A _lot_ of the former Blue Lions had joined her cause, Byleth Eisner or not. Felix was no shocker, but his loyalty probably stemmed from him hating the “chivalrous” and glorified self-sacrificing culture of Faerghus more than anything. Ever since his adopted family was executed by the Church, when he’d had to watch Lonato die, Ashe turning was also a no-brainer. 

Ingrid, another person whose life had been negatively impacted by the crest system, pledged her lance. Mercedes, devout believer and all, was a healer for the Empire now, in addition to her rumored connection to the Death Knight. 

The rest were heading north, going to their respective homes. As they offer curt goodbyes, Hilda couldn’t help but notice Annette’s anxious blue eyes as she gazed up at her mountain of a father. Instead of comforting his own daughter, Gilbert’s paternal instincts were solely focused on his mad prince, as had been the case for most of her life.

Maybe the tiny mage would soon become a defector as well.

The princess –no, _Emperor_ now– Hilda has to correct herself, was amassing a formidable army. Not only did she have the entire military might of the Empire behind her as well as its coin, but she had managed to recruit the country’s brilliant young minds straight from the Officer’s Academy to her side.

As the Blue Lions and the Knights of Seiros retreat deeper into Galatea, leaving them at the border with Daphnel to wait for the others, Hilda saddles up to her house leader and loops her arm around his.

“Dimitri’s not well,” he murmurs, eyes still glued to their retreating figures. “I don’t think we can count on the Kingdom if somebody doesn’t drag him out from the darkness...”

She could tell a thousand different scenarios were already playing out in his head, that his mind was already devising a plan A, B, C, _all_ the alphabet, down to the backups for each and every one. 

Clever plans, careful schemes and even risky gambles wove together in his mind, in cases of victory and in the case of loss, all of them in a readily available pool in that brilliant head of his. Hilda was glad she would be there so see them unfold.

Claude harrumphs unhappily and places one hand on top of hers. “This isn’t going to be a short war.”

“But we’ll fight it all the same,” Hilda promises, as the last of the Kingdom folks disappear from sight. Behind her, she can hear the second party, mostly Leicester citizens, arriving at last.

Deciding he’s too young for the worry lines to start etching themselves onto his face, she tries to lighten the mood a little.

“You hair’s getting so long,” Hilda murmurs, up on her tiptoes and twirling his quirky little braid in one finger, “I’m making you a headband.” 

“Can ya make it mustard-and-gray?” Claude says. “I need to look cool.” 

Hilda snorts, “That is beyond even _my_ help, sorry.”

“How am I supposed to lead the resistance if I don’t look the part?” Claude groans, but it breaks off into a sort of wheezy laugh that Hilda can’t help but join in on. 

They were presently the only two maniacs who would dare utter such a sound in these terrible, terrible times.

Her chest hurts, but she would rather laugh like an idiot instead of succumbing to the creeping feeling of hopelessness and despair that was for sure going to take root in all of this land.

It hadn’t been that funny, not at all, but hearing him laugh is cathartic in a sense, and she suspected he felt the same. When they finally quiet down, it’s a comfortable, familiar silence that lets them steel themselves for what was to come.

Eventually, Claude glances at some scuffling sounds behind them.

“We need to get you home,” he says. “I think our old pal Lorenz will be gracious enough to get you there, since the County of Gloucester is fairly close to Goneril.”

As if on cue, she turns too and watches the purple-haired boy descend from one of the carts and help Marianne down as well. Leonie jumps down, closely followed by Ignatz and Raphael. She feels her heart tighten at the sight of –almost– all the Golden Deer together again.

Hilda turns to face him, “What about you?”

“Lil’ old me?” Claude’s smile is soft as he raises his eyes towards the fading sun, the specks of yellow in them catching the light as he does, “I need to talk to my grandfather. I have an Alliance to lead.”

* * *

**Imperial year 1183**

Edelgard stared at Fódlan’s map, feeling a headache start to throb at the back of her eyes. Small flags and lines of connected yarn marked their strongholds, secure roads, backup forces, as well as many other key details. Right then, her vision was zeroed in on the Leicester region.

And that was because the root of her headache lay on the eastern part of it.

“The Gonerils are being ruthless,” she murmurs, as her eyes scan the results of their latest campaign against the Alliance. Despite controlling Ordelia territory, the much more important Goneril domain presented an iron curtain impossible to trespass.

The emperor slumps back on her chair, “No prisoners, no survivors. _Again_.” 

Scarlet-clad fingers tap on the map for a few seconds before her eyes rise to meet her vassal’s, “Is Holst still refusing to negotiate? Surely he knows he cannot keep this up forever.”

Hubert clears his throat, and his pale green eyes get an unusual nervous touch about them. “It is not Duke Goneril who is causing these... massive losses to our army.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen, “Then–” 

“Hilda Goneril,” Ferdinand confirms to her left, even though it could have gone without saying. 

“And may I ask _why_ Holst is otherwise indisposed?” Edelgard feels a flicker of annoyance inside her, that the Alliance noble would delegate such a task to his younger sister instead of taking on the defense of his homeland himself. It was unlike him.

Her Prime Minister is all too happy to elaborate, “He suffered a fungal infection years ago that resulted in bad lungs. He’s alive, but not at his prime anymore. Hubert’s little birds claim his younger sister has been slowly taking over his responsibilities.”

Edelgard remembered the incident in which Holst Goneril consumed some bad mushrooms, and apparently Hilda had _extremely_ downplayed the severity of her brother’s illness… or maybe what appeared to be a simple case of food poisoning, had worsened over time until it became a pulmonary deficiency.

She recalled how the Almyrans had attacked Fódlan's Locket, and Hilda had been summoned to take over the defense of the fortress in her brother's stead and done wonderfully. So wonderful, in fact, that Holst had relinquished his birthright to her, the legendary axe Freikugel. 

Edelgard’s eyes flick back to Hubert, trusting only him to accurately deliver her the reality. There’s something akin to guilt on his face, and she makes a mental note to question him later on just _how long_ he had been in possession of this information.

“And what else?” Edelgard purses her lips, her tone icy.

“She is set to become duchess, and head to House Goneril,” Hubert says matter-of-factly. “In addition, she has already joined the roundtable in Derdriu as one of the Five Great Lords, as well as rising to be one of Duke Riegan's most important generals.”

She bristles at his words, hating how, when it came to Hilda Valentine Goneril, Hubert _always_ felt the need to protect her. He claimed her vision was clouded in regard to the other young woman, and be that as it may, it still gave him no right to deprive her of information from her daily briefings.

Edelgard would have to talk to him later, without his sunshine boyfriend around.

“Speaking of Riegan, we should perhaps expect strategic marriages to take place. If their leader marries Hilda, it could prove difficult to break apart Leicester.” Ferdinand taps the edge of the map as well, and Edelgard feels her headache increase tenfold. “Forming unions between their houses is a possibility, as Edmund also has an eligible heir. We must tighten the leash on Count Gloucester’s neck, so he does not think to look north.”

The notion that Marianne would marry Lorenz is revolting in itself, but obviously what has Edelgard seeing red is the former suggestion. 

No matter how hard Edelgard tried, how much she forced herself to feel or think otherwise, her demented heart and brain _always_ , without fail, led her back to _her_ , to _Hilda_.

Surely, they were destined to collide by now. Their intense personalities had translated into an inexplicable passion, resulting in an energy so fulfilling Edelgard had failed to find anywhere else. 

And she’d _tried_ , _goddess had she tried_ , but none of her occasional casual partners had come even _close_ to spark within her what Hilda had. The underlying and ever-present tension between them, what early on had translated as _dislike_ but had actually been something more complicated, was unique to their dynamic, and _she missed it_.

Without meaning to, she had found an equal, someone who simultaneously was her complete opposite and yet, also managed to be perfectly complementary in aspects she lacked. 

Upon seeing her scowl, Hubert tries for damage control, “Let us not be hasty–”

“No, no, the Kingdom is on its last legs,” Ferdinand insists. “Keeping the Alliance together, even through political marriages, is a sound strategy. It would certainly quell internal turmoil, which is the thing they are struggling with the most. If they were to unite...”

“ _They will not_ ,” Edelgard snaps. The deep-seated jealousy she harbored in her heart was rearing its ugly head, and she was powerless to stop it from openly showing. At the very least, she was glad it was between her two most trusted advisors and no one else.

She loathed just how intolerable she found the idea. Objectively speaking, she was painfully aware that her chances of ever regaining Hilda’s affections were worse than null.

Dorothea had once suggested that perhaps she was like a swan, alluding to the fact that they mated for life, which did not sit well with her at all. 

It was a fitting punishment, she supposed, because of the path she trod, that in regards to Hilda Edelgard’s mind would often remind her that her war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves; _she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing_.

“Granted, it does not have to be between Claude and Hilda,” Ferdinand allows. “Perhaps marrying Lorenz would be the most beneficial to Claude, given how powerful the Gloucester’s are. Then the girls–”

“I think that’s enough Alliance talk for today,” Edelgard rubs at her temples, willing for the pounding in her head to go away. It doesn’t. “Thank you for your time.”

“Please do not dismiss my idea so easily, Edelgard,” Ferdinand protests. “Claude and Hilda were clearly an item back in the Officer’s Academy, so it’s not farfetched to suggest that they could tie the knot–”

“They most certainly were _not_ ,” she ignores Hubert’s pointed look as her dormant teenage spirit lashes out, and seems to use her as a mouthpiece in the most unbecoming of ways. 

The emperor of Adrestia would be lying if she said she had never felt jealous of Claude. To be fair, she had reason to be, however flimsy.

Hilda had admitted that during the day of the ritual for the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth, while the Black Eagles were otherwise occupied with that mission, she and Claude had hooked up. Well, more like _tried_.

Apparently, they were compatible in literally everything else bar the bedroom, because Hilda claimed it had been a complete disaster, and that they’d both ended up laughing so hard they had decided to go shop in town instead of finishing the deed. 

It was clear that, while overly familiar and _close_ , there was nothing romantic about their dynamic. At the time, it had not made Edelgard feel much better, but in the end, Hilda had thoroughly convinced her otherwise. And Hilda had been _very_ persuasive.

“Why would you even think that?” Edelgard continues, “They looked pretty platonic to me.”

The two girls hadn’t advertised they were… _together_ , but they _were_. They hadn’t openly indicated that they were a _couple_ , per se, but even _Bernadetta_ had noticed something was up, and she _never_ left her room. If the so-called recluse of Garreg Mach had come to learn Edelgard’s business, she was worried about just how observant her Prime Minister was.

“Well, when _this one_ turned me down to meet at the Goddess Tower after the ball,” Ferdinand points with his chin at the suddenly sheepish man across from him, “I asked Hilda, we were on friendly terms you see, and she said she was meeting someone else.”

When it came to her Black Eagles, Ferdinand and Caspar had often been willing victims of Hilda’s campaign of relaying her chores and whims onto other people, so it wasn’t surprising that the older boy had asked her.

“And you just assumed this _someone else_ was Claude,” Edelgard doesn’t know if she should laugh or scream. 

“Naturally,” the clueless von Aegir scratches at his long hair, “If not him, then who? Those two were –no, _are_ – inseparable.”

The younger girl gets the visceral urge to shake him, to inform him that _no_ , the one that had met with Hilda that night had been his rival, the person who had had Hilda’s head between her thighs had been his house leader, and it _wasn’t_ Claude who made a vow under the stars that night, but Edelgard von Hresvelg. 

But she does none of those things.

“I suppose you are allowed your own wrong opinion,” Hubert smirks, saving her. “Then again, let us not forget you were quite _oblivious_ , back in the day. Chasing after Dorothea for months if I recall correctly. Making grand gestures that missed several marks...”

Ferdinand’s cheeks glow red, “H-How was I supposed to know it was actually _Petra_ she was interested in–”

“–completely unaware of the rightful contempt she held for nobility,” Hubert muses, further flustering his partner. 

Ferdinand stands abruptly, and quickly inclines his head in Edelgard’s direction, “I shall take my leave now.”

As he storms away, Edelgard smiles at her faithful retainer, “I’m afraid you will be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“A small price to pay for Her Majesty’s comfort,” he offers a rare, wry grin, and Edelgard found it very amusing how both of them, in a similar fashion, fell for people who were by all means their complete opposites.

The grin is quickly replaced by his usual air of formality, and Hubert’s next words are overly careful, “I apologize for purposely omitting some information regarding the Duchy of Goneril and its present administration.”

Fancy way of saying, _sorry I didn’t tell you Hilda was singlehandedly fucking up our forces_ _and successfully climbed the ladder of Alliance_ _bureaucracy_ _by Claude’s side_. She’d always known about Hilda’s untapped potential –it had been an endless source of fights between them– but this news had blown even her expectations.

“I understand why you did it,” Edelgard closes her eyes, and lets out a sigh. “But don’t let it happen again.”

Hubert is quiet for a moment, which wasn’t rare, what was rare was the heaviness behind it.

He wanted to say something.

“Speak,” she commands, still keeping her lids closed. It did nothing to soothe the pounding inside her head, but at least this way she could stop obsessing over the cursed map.

“If I may be so bold,” he begins, “You are the Emperor of all Adrestia, and soon, of all Fódlan. You could have anyone–”

“On second thought, _no_ ,” her eyes snap open, “You may not be so bold.”

Hubert bows his head, “Forgive me. It was a mere observation.” She thinks he’s finished, but softly, he adds, “I do not enjoy seeing you hurting, Lady Edelgard. It pains me to see that what ails you, namely the circumstances of both the Goneril girl and of Professor Eisner, are beyond our control…”

Oh, _Byleth_. As if she needed another reminder of her shortcomings. 

In the back of her mind, no matter what she was doing or who she was with, she could still see the bright green of their hair falling into unending darkness after Rhea’s rampage, never to be seen again.

_Byleth died because they chose to protect you._

“As always, your concern is greatly appreciated,” she offers a strained smile, as well as a subtle dismissal he immediately gets. “But… in time, I will be fine. All will be well.”

He stands, a hand over his heart, “Shall I get you something for your head?”

Even if she hadn’t uttered a word of complaint, he knew. 

He always did.

This time the smile does reach her eyes. “Thank you, Hubert.”

* * *

**Imperial year 1185**

Edelgard agrees to meet with Claude for a parley in the Adrestian banks of the Airmid River. Rumor had it, the emperor’s forces had their eye on taking the Great Bridge of Myrddin to have free entry into the Alliance, which, suffice to say, would be devastating.

Much to Hilda’s chagrin, her liege _insisted_ on speaking to the emperor alone as a ‘sign of good faith’. It was all an act, of course, as each had their respective backup just a few paces away just in case things went awry, which they very well could.

“This is a waste of time,” Judith taps her foot impatiently against the rocky banks of the river where Claude had stationed them. “Edelgard is actively _winning_ this war. The Kingdom is on the brink of collapse, and in Leicester we’re at each other’s throats… why the boy thinks he has something worth saying to a Hresvelg is beyond me.”

Hilda hums her agreement, but she’s busy trying to catch a proper glimpse of the group of Adrestians –and _Byleth Eisner_ , back from the dead! – several feet away. 

The former professor looks the exact same, as if no time had passed at all. They had to have one hell of a story to explain their absence, and their miraculous return, and Hilda was a little sad she wouldn’t get to hear it.

The return of the brilliant teacher had completely turned the tide, breaking the war's state of deadlock with their triumphant return. She knew several former students had answered their call to join in the fight for their side, and so far, none had refused.

Marianne’s last letter to her had been heartbreaking, to say the least.

Hubert still looked like evil incarnate, but now he’d taken to combing his hair upwards like little devil horns, which, uh, _very_ _fitting_. Hilda wondered, not for the first time, if he actually had a right-side eye under that mop of dark hair he always sported over it.

And then, the emperor herself.

Half a decade had passed, yet Hilda’s mind wandered back to their initial meeting one cold Guardian Moon, when she’d first laid eyes on the imperial noble. They’d been so young back then, and she’d looked so prim and proper, Hilda could eat her right up.

Now, Edelgard looked like the jaded and more weathered version of that bright-eyed girl she once was. She was still seriously beautiful, the years had been kind to her in that regard, but there was a graveness to the way she carried herself that showed the crown was indeed heavy on her head. 

Hilda’s heart did a little flip upon realizing that Edelgard’s hair wasn’t done in her usual coiled buns and golden ram horns, but in a stylish side ponytail. She distinctly remembered practicing that very same hairstyle eons ago, on that very hair, and it both annoys and endears the fuck out of her.

She’s wearing that elegant but conservative red dress that doubled as armor, an interesting contrast to Claude’s creamy color scheme. There are no smiles, and whatever Claude is saying doesn’t seem to be being received well, judging from the scowl on Edelgard’s face.

“Hey, kid,” Judith says. Hilda stops her spying and gay thoughts only to be met with sparkling gray eyes, “Is it true the emperor was your beau back in school?”

“My– _what_?” first, she’s thrown off by the word –seriously, _who talks like that_? – but as her brain catches up and her face flushes, she asks, “Who told you that?!”

“It’s true, then!” the older woman had been close to tears of boredom, but this sure had brought some mirth to all her grim. “Who do you think?”

Hilda folds her arms in front of herself, and glares at Mr. Leader Man in his little meeting several feet away. His back is to her, so it has no effect, but she hopes the bad vibes reach him somehow.

“Aww, don’t be mad at the boy!” Judith’s smile drips amusement. “I asked him what in the blazes _you_ were having for breakfast to be kicking so much Empire ass over in the east, and he kind of gave too much backstory.”

It’s true Hilda had been having a bit too much fun sending Edelgard’s soldiers to an early grave. It wasn’t _her fault_ Hilda suddenly had to fend off Almyra _and_ the Empire all at once after her brother’s illness, bringing on mountains of responsibility she had never asked for.

Instead of continuing down that line of conversation, she huffs. “Who even says _beau_? I don’t think even father uses it, and he’s ancient.” 

Judith quirks one thin, dark eyebrow, “You calling me _old_ , Goneril?”

Claude turning on his heel to face them makes both women rise to attention. Apparently, his conversation was over, and judging from the grimace on his face, it hadn’t gone all that well. 

“Hilda?” Claude’s voice calls, and Hilda’s blood turns cold. “The emperor asks if she may have a word.”

Judith snorts and places a hand at the small of her back as if to push her forward, “Well, go on, then!”

“She may not,” Hilda calls back weakly, staying rooted in place right where she is. 

Claude points at his pierced ear, and mouths _can’t hear you_! Beside him, Edelgard shifts her weight, and Hilda recognizes a nervousness to her body language that had been completely absent when dealing with the leader of the Alliance.

When Claude announced the stupid parley idea (probably a last-ditch attempt to buy them some time to brush up the Aquatic Capital’s defenses) it took Hilda several days to mentally prepare herself just to _see_ Edelgard again. The thought of actually _speaking_ to her, after all this time, had her torn.

“Oh, don’t be a wuss, Goneril! Go speak with your ex!” the older woman cackles. Her gentle prod turns into a hard shove, and Hilda wonders how mad Claude would be if she were to smack the Hero of Daphnel upside the head.

Deciding that the answer was _very mad indeed_ , and keeping her own best interest at heart, Hilda drags her feet all the way _over there_ , every step torturous. 

The closer she gets, though, she feels as if an avalanche of long-buried feelings –none of them positive– tumble down her shoulders. Long buried feelings of anger and hurt bubble to the surface of her skin. 

As she approaches, she watches Edelgard’s eyes widen slightly, taking her in.

This was the first time they were face-to-face in five years.

“Hilda,” she says in greeting. She’d half expected to hear the distorted voice of the foe she’d disguised herself as all their school year, _but no_ , it’s Edelgard’s alluring, deep voice, untouched by time. To make matters worse, she’s eloquent as ever, “You look well.”

“Hello, Flame Emperor. Oops, –I mean– _El_.”

Edelgard’s frown is immediate, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to immediately open this unwanted conversation with pettiness and resentment. Hilda wanted to make it perfectly clear where she stood, and also that she did not have time for fake pleasantries. 

Claude raises his eyes to the heavens at her aggressiveness and, deciding he does not want to stay for the crossfire, he raises both hands, “I’ll leave you two ladies to talk.”

“No need,” Hilda says, her eyes silently challenging violet ones. “I don’t have anything to say, so. This should be quick.”

“But _I do_ ,” Edelgard’s tone is forceful, but not openly hostile. “And I would very much like you to hear me out.”

“Oh, okay then,” Hilda feels her smile bordering on a sneer, “ _Only if you ask nicely_.”

Edelgard purses her lips, frustrated at her being difficult, but evidently not surprised. 

There’s a rebellious streak in her eye, the exact same one she used to get five years ago. Edelgard _hated_ begging, so naturally Hilda had demanded she do it frequently when they fucked. There had been nothing more delicious than working towards ripping a desperate ‘ _P-Please’_ from the then-princess’ lips.

Hilda blinks the memory away, and cants her head to the side, waiting. 

Claude’s eyes shift between them when the silence stretches for too long, “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he says, a panicky splash to his voice. “We should–”

“May I _please_ have a word?”

“Why, of course! My, what a polite young emperor,” Hilda knows she’s pushing it, _she knows_ , and the way Edelgard’s eyes flash dangerously is confirmation enough. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

A vein throbs in Edelgard’s neck and, _oh_ , _she’s infuriated_. Hilda relishes the fact that, after all these years, she can still perfectly push the other girl’s buttons to the point that you can see it physically affect her, carefully placed mask or no. Her face may be emotionless, but her body spoke plenty.

“I, uh, I’ll be over there,” Claude jerks his thumb back towards Judith. His eyes plead at her not to provoke the wrath of the emperor. With his other hand, he splays out his fingers, “Five minutes, okay? Then we gotta go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hilda waves him away. “Let’s go talk in the shade, huh? The sun’s bad for my skin.”

Edelgard says nothing as she dutifully follows her to a slightly more secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of Claude, Judith, Byleth and Hubert– or whoever else the emperor had brought along.

No spike of dark magic impales her chest, so she figures Edelgard’s retainer would allow them a few seconds of privacy, just this once.

Thanks, Hubert.

* * *

Whilst she had been the picture of perfect detachment and held all the leverage when speaking to Claude, when facing Hilda, she grew weak. The only reason Edelgard had agreed to the schemers’ parley was to, if not get a signed surrender, then clear the air with her ex once and for all.

But as she follows the older girl into the shade of the trees –not too deep, always within sight of Hubert’s watchful gaze– she starts to fumble for words, starts to wonder if this was a good idea.

Goddess, _why_ was she rendered useless and soft when met with something as inconsequential as an old lover? She was the emperor of all Adrestia, the unifier of all Fódlan, presently the most powerful woman of this land, and it was something like _this_ that made her stomach churn with anxiety.

She ruefully remembers the last time she’d seen her, a blur of pink zipping around the battlefield atop a wyvern as Garreg Mach was engulfed in flames. Not for the first time, Edelgard had wished that Hilda was someone who could be swayed by her words and deeds into becoming an ally, all to no avail.

Their combined time together maybe added up to a year, if not less. They had been _more time apart_ than actually together, and yet…

They reach a nice secluded spot, where the river’s not too loud and the eyes watching them can hopefully not read their lips.

Hilda has that lazy lilt to her voice as she leans against one of the trees, almost looking bored. “Well?”

In her painful awkwardness, Edelgard blurts out, “Lysithea grew up to be taller than me.”

For a split second, Hilda’s stormy eyes soften at the imagery of the youngest girl at school outgrowing them both, but they quickly harden again. “Don’t speak about my friend.”

She tries not to let the sharpness in her voice sting. She deserved it.

It was hard to gauge the sort of mood Hilda was in. Obviously, since the first thing she had done was antagonize Edelgard, there was rightful anger. She also seemed to be trying really hard to appear nonchalant, but Hilda was the type of person to wear her heart on her sleeve, and her true feelings were bleeding through.

There was an unmistakable, acute hurt there, one that had been festering and multiplying for five whole years.

“I was sorry to hear about Holst,” Edelgard tries, as candid as she can muster. It’s difficult not to falter. With the way Hilda’s eyes are boring into hers, it is starting to make her lose her nerve.

None of what had come out of her mouth thus far had been what she actually wanted to say, but for some reason she just felt compelled to stall with whatever else until she gathered her courage.

“Mhm, thanks for that. Are you sorry about anything else?”

An apology, then. That must be what Hilda was after. Asking for forgiveness did not come easily to Edelgard, as she was of the opinion that she scarcely did things to be sorry about, but she was certainly not above them when one was owed.

Reluctantly, she murmurs, “I apologize for the way things were ended between us–”

“Oh, they _ended_? Just like that? I thought we were just doing long distance, all this time.” Hilda is back to that mean, sarcastic sneer of hers. “The suckiest long distance in history, by the way. You never visit, you never write...”

Hilda kicks herself forward and away from the tree, and glowers at her, “Things didn’t just randomly _end_ , Edelgard. You actively and knowingly cooked up all this _shit_ –” she gestures vaguely with her hand, “– and left me in the dark.”

Despite her best efforts, Edelgard feels her temper start to flare, “So, given the chance, you would have joined me, is what you’re implying?”

“Absolutely not. Your lap dog was right in that regard.” Hilda takes a step back, collecting herself. Edelgard ignores the insult against her retainer. “But I really think you should have had the decency to break up with me, to my face, before your big reveal.”

She feels heat rise to her neck. Of course, that’s one of the things Hubert had nagged her about every day as the end of the Pegasus Moon all those years ago drew to a close. Urging her to rid herself of her prime distraction, _the Goneril girl_. 

Edelgard had tried maybe twice, but she hadn’t tried very hard. You broke up with people because you started feeling different, because there was nothing to salvage in the relationship… and Edelgard had been so infatuated, so adoring towards the other girl, she had not been able to bring herself to properly break things off until it was too late. 

She had allowed herself to be _selfish_ , thinking she could afford to be.

Maybe a tiny, foolish part of her had secretly hoped she would join of her own volition, like Byleth had done.

She would have done anything to make Hilda her ally.

She tries to swallow down the knot forming in her throat, “Is there anything else you would like me to apologize for?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!” Hilda brings up her fingers and starts counting, “You used me, you lied, abandoned me with _no explanation_ ,” Edelgard flinches, as the older girl barrels on, “You left me with deep-rooted trust issues, left me pining after an asshole for years–”

Hilda cuts herself off with a growl, and even if it’s with an obvious negative connotation, the last part leaves her heart racing. Before she can read too much into it and get her hopes up, the Alliance general leans back against her tree.

“Whatever. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore,” Hilda’s mouth is set into a thin, impatient line. “I’m growing tired of this.” _Of you_. “What did you _really_ want to talk about?”

Edelgard takes a deep breath and tries to get confidence and coolness back into her demeanor. “I wanted to offer you the opportunity of swearing fealty to–”

Before she can finish, Hilda snorts with laughter that has her quaking for several seconds.

Edelgard is transported back to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, when Lysithea had blasted her with Luna, and Hilda’s mocking, mean laugh had rung in her ears for hours after.

It’s the exact same one.

When Hilda finally stops shaking, and sees the peeved look on her face, she raises both eyebrows, “Wait, shit. You’re serious.”

“Of course I am,” Edelgard was starting to finally tire of being Hilda’s punching bag, whether she deserved it or not. “I do not enjoy needless slaughter, and will seek a peaceful resolution where I can.”

“Hmm. Is this what you were talking about with Mr. Leader Man?”

“Yes. I offered the Alliance the chance to surrender, without need for bloodshed.”

She watches as Hilda runs her tongue along her front teeth, as if considering. “Uh-huh. What did Claude say?”

“He refused my very generous offer,” Edelgard bites out, and from the knowing look on the other girl’s face, Hilda had already known that without needing to be told.

Ferdinand had advised caution on extending a hand to someone who had cost their army the lives of countless Imperial soldiers, but this was war, and Edelgard was adamant on avoiding conflict when possible, and acquiring allies where she could. 

The head of house Goneril spreads her hands, a condescending smile on her face, “Well, there’s your answer.”

“He speaks for himself,” Edelgard says sharply. “Tomorrow, the Great Bridge of Myrddin _will_ fall to Imperial forces. Derdriu will be next.”

When her words aren’t met with jeering laughter or a snide comment, she continues, “I–I would like you to lend us your strength. You can make your own decisions; they don’t need to go hand-in-hand with Claude’s. Pledge your axe to the Empire, and live to see a glorious new dawn.”

For the first time during this encounter, Hilda doesn’t immediately reply with barbed words or veiled sarcasm. She’s folded her arms, and glanced away to the flowing river on their right, peaceful and gurgling quietly under this Ethereal Moon.

She must have said something right.

Edelgard watches the way her throat bobs, and how some of the tension leaves Hilda’s body, almost releasing it. When she drags her gaze to slowly meet her eyes again, they aren’t steely anymore. They’re sad, and honest.

“Your compassion for others is one of the things I liked the most about you, you know,” Hilda says almost wistfully, and Edelgard is too shocked at the kind words to respond. The older girl takes her silence in stride and raises the corner of her mouth, just barely, “I wasn’t _that_ shallow, for the record. It wasn’t all physical for me, at least towards the end…”

The Adrestian has whiplash from the abrupt change, but it is nonetheless welcome. Her admission too, while unexpected, makes her feel the same kind of warm she had felt upon Byleth’s return from the dead.

“ _However_...” Hilda says, swiftly crushing the flicker of hope inside her, “Your arrogance is one of the things I detested.”

Edelgard’s lips part, but no sound comes out. Hilda sighs and propels herself forward. For a second, she thinks the pink-haired girl is going to strike her. But she does something that surprises her even more.

She kisses her softly on the cheek.

“See you tomorrow, El.” This time, the nickname isn’t weaponized like it had been on their initial meeting. Hilda raises her voice, “Don’t pounce, Hubie! It was just a friendly, good-luck ritual!”

Was this… closure?

As she brushes past her, and Edelgard is left there dumbfounded, she chokes out, “H-Hilda!”

She’s already halfway to walking back to the pair of surprised Alliance members, but she cocks her head to look back, “Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to die,” Edelgard’s whisper is so loud, even so far out of reach, the other girl registers it just fine.

“Oh. I won’t.” She flashes her one of her real smiles and waves, leaving Edelgard’s heart beating so fast she’s tempted to ask Byleth to cast a Heal on her, it could not be healthy.

Even from her spot, which was a respectful distance away, she can tell Claude looks bewildered and Judith is grinning like Hilda had not just fraternized with the enemy in a borderline inappropriate way. 

Two seconds pass before a familiar, slightly mortified Hubert materializes by her side. “Lady Edelgard, when the Goneril girl overstepped I deemed it necessary to intervene, but the Professor restrained me–”

“Nothing wrong with a sweet moment,” Byleth has one of their blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smiles, but it quickly morphs into one of their serious looks. “Tomorrow may not be so kind.”

*** * ***

Just like Byleth predicted, the morrow was not kind, not kind at all.

In accordance to what Edelgard had promised, the Black Eagle Strike Force successfully took control of the Great Bridge of Myrddin.

The two biggest threats had been no doubt the Hero of Daphnel and _Hilda_. Claude was not present, as he had probably left to further fortify Derdriu, and Hilda had probably stayed behind to provide tactical backup.

The battle had been extremely difficult, and it was only thanks to Byleth and Edelgard’s careful planning that things ended up going their way. Without their mentoring, Edelgard was sure the battle –if not the entire war– would have been lost.

The fighting was over, but not without the Goneril heir yet again dealing massive losses to their army.

It was worth noting that, in one case, said loss could have been abysmally worse. Caspar, who Byleth had always described as a _glass cannon_ , had decided to try to go toe-to-toe with the Wyvern Lord, only to barely survive. 

Hilda had “missed” a short axe throw that would have been key to ending the young War Master’s life. The blunder had been enough to give Linhardt a window of time to Warp his beloved away before Hilda could get her shit together.

Edelgard knew that Hilda had brought a tomahawk with her, which was also a ranged weapon, but _much more_ accurate than the short axe she had opted for. She’d even heard Jeritza muttering under his breath, wondering what in the blazes Hilda was thinking purposely missing a lethal throw like that.

Her rampage was only stopped by the combined efforts of Dorothea’s powerful Meteor from a distance, along with Ashe and Bernadetta’s hailstorm of arrows driving her back. 

She finally retreated after Ingrid drove the point of her lance through Judith’s throat, snuffing out the life from the Hero of Daphnel. 

Edelgard should have felt beyond pleased at their victory, but she mostly felt miserable.

* * *

Hilda was, _personally_ , not a violent person, not at all, but she very well _could be_.

She’d been raised by men who had been tasked with protecting their border from one of the most powerful, warrior-oriented cultures on the planet. Ever since she was old enough to hold an axe, Hilda had been brought along to participate on skirmishes near the fortress. 

Granted, she hadn’t _killed_ anyone during that practice (her first kill had been while obeying the Church's instructions while at Garreg Mach) but it still left her with a particular prowess for battle.

The Big Three aside, Hilda had been easily among the top five most powerful students at the Officer’s Academy. Her grades hadn’t really reflected just how much damage such a small body could dish out in a matter of seconds. 

Judith’s gruesome death still sat on the forefront of her mind like a bad omen. It left a bitter taste in Hilda’s mouth how the commander had been killed by Ingrid, a distant relative of hers that bore the Crest of Daphnel, with a stab of the legendary lance Lúin.

 _That’s_ when Hilda had retreated and fled all the way to Derdriu– the Alliance’s base of operations, to join up with the Master Tactician for their last stand.

Since the Imperial army had seized the Great Bridge of Myrddin, House Gloucester felt perfectly comfortable aligning itself with the Empire. Claude’s cunning had kept the Alliance together all these years, but without the support of the pro-Imperialist lords, Leicester was greatly weakened.

Claude had blockaded the city and occupied the naval port, at the far end. Hilda was at the frontlines, welcoming the first few poor schmucks the Empire sent her way.

The first mistake of the horde of Imperial soldiers that greeted her, was challenging her in the first place.

She charged. Hilda crashed into their line and started hacking away with Freikugel. Lances jabbed. Swords slashed. Mages casted and fired. Nothing seemed to touch her. The Goneril girl whirled through the ranks, slashing Adrestians to bits, one after the other. 

Her mind went on autopilot: stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Freikugel was no longer an axe. It was an arc of pure destruction.

She fought like a demon, whirling through the defender’s ranks in a completely unorthodox style, rolling under their feet, cleaving them in half, whacking them with the flat of her blade, causing mass panic. 

The powerful legacy of Goneril endured more punishment than any normal person could or should, and in return, dished out just as much – _if not more_. 

Hilda wasn’t holding back upon seeing no familiar faces. During the last fight, she’d hesitated for a split second, but it had been enough for the youngest von Bergliez to live to see another day. 

She didn’t regret her choice. Caspar had been a friend.

No Garreg Mach alumni were present on this first wave, though.

She somersaulted over a line of shields and slammed the butt of her axe into the helmet of the Imperial general –Ladislava, was her name? –, who collapsed like a sockpuppet. 

The Adrestian woman was alive, but barely. She recognized her as a member of Edelgard’s personal guard. Maybe leaving one survivor to tell the tale would be good.

She tries to drown out their screams by chanting inside her head, _Hilda, Hilda, Hilda_! She’d done it back in school, pumping herself up when she got something right. Right now, she was most certainly delivering on that end.

Hilda’s blood sings with the adrenaline of battle. Claude and Nader had taught her, in a sort of Almyran fashion, to fight _alongside_ her wyvern and not limit herself to using it as convenient transport as was Fódlan’s custom. 

Thanks to their handy tips and tricks, she was just as dangerous mounted as she was unmounted– behind her, her wyvern was snapping up yet another soldier in half, while stomping another to death under its deadly claws.

Claude had promised that, if they survived the ordeal, he would introduce her to his parents. It was something they’d talked about in their Academy days, but did not go beyond childish daydreaming, what with the war exploding shortly after. Hilda had a sneaking suspicion of just _what_ the big secret was, but she never pushed. He would confide in her, in his own time.

As she wipes someone else’s blood from her brow, Hilda recalls what Claude had said in one of their conversations sooo long ago, along the lines of _I look forward to the day when something inspires you try your absolute hardest. It will be something to behold!_

Well, look at her now.

When the first wave fails in their assault, Hilda climbs back up on her wyvern, surveying what was to come next. Byleth must have some secret up their ridiculously long sleeves, given how important taking the Aquatic Capital was for their army. These had to have been scouts.

Sure enough, another group was fast approaching after Hilda’s valiant defense of the city went unmatched.

Ginger, white, blue. 

Hilda recognized them immediately. 

Leonie, Lysithea and Marianne. 

Part of the enemy. Part of the Emperor’s army. 

Part of her heart.

These were her _friends_.

To no one’s surprise, Lysithea had successfully reached the Gremory class, judging from her cool outfit. Hilda remembered seeing the same look on the former Blue Lion’s mage Annette back when their army took the Great Bridge of Myrddin.

To her relief, no former Golden Deer had been brought to _that_ fight. It seemed Byleth had changed their mind on that regard after the army with the dumbest name, the Black Eagle Strike Force – _really, Edelgard_? – had barely scraped by with _that_ win.

The heir to House Ordelia held the relic Thyrsus between dark gloved hands, squeezing it like a lifeline. 

So, Lorenz had forked it over, after all. Hilda had been right all along on its potential being wasted on the likes of him. He’d been an okay mage, but nowhere near close to the powerhouse that was Lys.

Beside her, Hilda couldn’t tell if the redhead had gone for a Bow Knight or a Great Knight, but Leonie’s class hadn’t changed much either– it still fell under _Horse Girl_. Regardless, Hilda wasn’t all that worried about her pulling out a bow considering the Aurora Shield strapped to her arm– no arrow would deal her any extra damage with _this_ baby.

And then Marianne…

Her ugly sword Blutgang was strapped to her waist, the Crest Stone at its center glowing a faint red. Her dearest friend had gone on to become a Holy Knight, riding Dorte’s old ass into battle with confidence Hilda had never seen from the shy girl before.

They had kept in touch during the war through letters, but the second the Black Eagles professor returned from the dead and reassembled all their former students back to their side, _all of them_ answered the call.

Despite her posture, and even from a distance, Hilda could see Marianne’s brown eyes were pleading _something_ wordlessly.

She felt dread pool in her stomach alike to something heavy and rotten. 

_Of course_ the professor had sent _them_ over to stop her. 

Besides being a solid strategy (cavalry to cover more ground, a healer and a magical nuke) Byleth was probably banking on their old friendship to tug at her heartstrings.

And curse the brilliant teacher, they were right on the money!

It made her sick. It made her so sick, she might’ve hurled right there if she hadn’t been in the literal most stressful moment of her life and needed to have her wits about her.

Fighting against nameless soldiers and random former students was one thing, but _these_ three… Byleth knew Hilda would at the very least hesitate, unlike the treatment all the Imperial soldiers so far into this war had received. 

She didn’t know how Claude was doing, which fried her nerves even further. 

Would he have the same qualms she did putting an arrow through the hearts of Lorenz, Raphael, Ignatz? 

Had the Black Eagle’s teacher really brought only the former Golden Deer along for this particular fight to unnerve the last two standing?

Her former friends and _Edelgard_. 

She’d spotted the familiar crimson armor going the long way around to get directly to Claude to avoid facing her– the Emperor probably knew that, with the trio’s threat right at her door, Hilda could not follow without leaving Claude vulnerable to even more attacks.

She hated the way her heart twisted into even tinier knots when thinking about the revolutionary herself. Her feelings towards the Emperor were disgustingly complicated, and Hilda had a sinking feeling that they would not be resolved– at least not in this lifetime.

In the unlikely event that she survived her current predicament, she would probably throttle Edelgard with her bare hands just out of rage and grief for forcing her into said impossible position in the first place.

From her spot high on the clouds atop her wyvern, Hilda had the advantage. She made the quickest calculations of her life, and came up with a strategy the Professor and Holst both would have been proud of.

She had the speed _and_ physical strength advantage over all of them. If she attacked first and true, she could take out Lysithea with an axe to the chest and fly away before the other two who were mounted could get her. 

Next, she could tank a hit or two from Leonie if necessary and then retaliate to finish her, whilst still staying a healthy distance away from Marianne’s light magic.

The exact same thought process must have been running through Lysithea’s mind, as terrified cherry eyes lock with hers. 

The only way to beat all three of her –former? – friends, was to take out Lysithea first, before she could fire Thyrsus with the ridiculous range the Heroes Relic provided her. Then Claude's’ right-hand woman would have to pull out her Horseslayer lance and end Leonie’s run… and finally, if she survived the ordeal, end sweet Marianne’s life as well.

It further sank Hilda’s heart to see that her friends were hesitating, too. The air between them was charged with tension– and also with the smell of carnage, what with the Imperial soldier’s mangled bodies from her rampage earlier littering the ground below her and soaking the streets of Derdriu red.

Even if no fighting between them had started as of yet, they seemed to be at an unspoken standstill, the only sound coming from the rhythmic flapping from Hilda’s wyvern.

Leonie is the first to break the silence. “Hilda.”

“Hey, you guys!” she grinned, which probably looked really creepy given that the lower part of her face and jaw was still coated in blood. “Welcome to the Golden Deer class reunion!”

Her grin only widened at their uncomfortable silence, “It’s been too long! How’s the traitor life working out so far? The Empire feeding you good? Is it everything you ever dreamed of _and_ more!?”

“Hilda, don’t be cruel.” Marianne’s soft voice further made Hilda’s insides twist with agony.

“You need to stand down.” Lysithea’s grip on her magical weapon tightened even more if at all humanly possible. “We don’t want to fight you. We just want to…”

“Just want to _what_?” Hilda snaps. “Hold me back long enough while Edelgard crushes Claude’s skull with Aymr? To stop me while the professor breaks every bone in his body with the Sword of the Creator?”

The way they squirmed in their places let Hilda know that her former friends maybe still had a conscience, from the way they recoiled at her words. Lysithea, for always wanting to appear so grown up and mature, looked on the verge of tears.

A fresh breeze that felt like it was announcing the end of the Guardian Moon ruffled her hair softly, making the yucky parts still covered in the fallen’s blood stick to her face. She tucked the offending strands behind her ear and took a deep breath.

The wind carried Nader’s screams as he was cut down somewhere far, far away.

Hmm.

 _I don't understand why anyone would want to risk their life for someone else,_ she remembered one conversation with Byleth Eisner a billion years ago; back in the day when they were still trying to recruit her. Her own words mocked her now.

It could have been another lifetime.

It definitely felt like a different Hilda.

She shook her head as acceptance finally settled over her shoulders like a thin, raggedy blanket. Hilda felt eerily calm as she realized that the decision she thought she needed to make today she’d already made five years ago, when she’d stuck by the green-eyed boy and followed him to the ends of the world.

Claude had specifically told her to retreat if things didn’t look too hot for their side, and that it was OK to flee like she’d done at the Great Bridge of Myrddin last month. That he wouldn’t be mad, that she deserved to live, that it wasn’t cowardice, that…

 _No_.

She would die here.

Hilda raised her gaze, and something in it must’ve triggered something in Marianne because, against all sound strategy, the Holy Knight rushes forward to stand between the Wyvern Lord and Lysithea.

So, she’d figured out the plan, too.

_Marianne…_

Instead of attacking the von Edmund girl like any sane person would, Hilda stays perfectly still. 

She _waits_. 

Resigned to her fate, the future of House Goneril does nothing.

Freikugel, which usually felt like an extension of her arm and was as easy to wield to her as breathing, was suddenly impossible to lift. Hilda doesn’t even try to block the flash of light that sends her flying backwards.

“I-I’m so sorry, Hilda… I…”

“It’s OK, Marianne.” A coppery taste fills her mouth. Dark, fuzzy stars flash before her eyes. “These things happen in war.”

Lysithea blasts her with _something_ , and _goddess_ , all of her nerve endings are on fire, and she wishes her stubborn soul would stop clinging to her mortal body and let her go if only to stop the pain.

She felt so, so dizzy. It was like she’d been hit square in the chest with a direct attack from a Demonic Beast, not a crazy powerful spell from her best friends. She winces at the screeching sound of her wyvern dying beside her; Leonie’s arrows had been quick to find their mark after Hilda fell from her steed.

Her head continues to spin with lingering regret, and as her vision starts to fade, several images grasp at her last remaining strands of life, all faces: Holst, Claude, Marianne, Byleth, even Edelgard’s… she tried to suck one final gulp of air between her teeth, but she was drowning in something warm.

Hilda’s eyes fluttered closed, with an apology stuck to her throat. 

_It’s been fun, Claude… sorry to go so soon…_

As Hilda’s consciousness slipped into inky darkness, she felt something sort of wispy and familiar seep warmth into her bones.

Someone had cast a Physic over her.

Then her world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i hope the switch between POVs wasn't too confusing i tried my best to make em clear  
> -fun fact: i've had the last part of this chap written for a while, since chap 4 or something like that lol  
> \- aaand to put everyone's minds at ease: the only ones that die in this story are Rhea + Dimitri (dedue can be saved if you kill him before he transforms im pretty sure, correct me if im wrong)  
> \- chap 9 will be an epilogue from Hilda's POV... this started with my girl, it's got to end with her.  
> [ still haven't reaaally decided on the ending, im just at 2000 words for tht, so if you reading this are at all invested, would love to hear some thoughts on this. also i DO read every single comment, i just don't really reply bc i don't want to turn the comments into a groupchat lol but know i do appreciate em!:) ]


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ending inspired by poetry of david jones

**9**

Hilda was floating.

She felt light, detached, like a string had been cut– but not completely severed, if that made any sort of sense. It felt more like she was hanging on by maybe the thinnest of threads.

Said thread felt like it was charged with a thousand bolts of electricity.

A pronounced, insistent pain rocks her body awake, but she has difficulty opening her eyes– and she realizes it’s because they are caked shut with blood.

 _Her own_ blood.

“Marianne– Marianne, she’s waking up!” Manuela’s voice screams, and the sound vertebrates inside her skull, “ _Sedate her immediately_.”

A blur of blue moves at the edge of her vision, and Hilda tries to talk, to move– to do _anything_ , but she can’t. All she can make out are vague shapes and colors, but not much else. Blood and tears cloud her vision.

All she knows is that her body’s on fire.

She tries to gurgle something, a question, _why does it hurt so bad_. She’d been hit with magical attacks before, both Reason and Faith, and the pain had been nowhere near as bad.

“And get Lysithea out of here!” Manuela’s voice continues to bark orders. “Anyone that can’t cast Physic, get out!”

Her only sense that seems to be somewhat working is her smell– her nose picks up on the metallic smell of blood, an undertone of charred flesh… and something sharp and sterile.

There’s shuffling, some protests, and the ex-diva’s voice again, “That includes _you_ , Your Majesty.”

Beside her, Marianne’s gentle voice sounds like it’s underwater, “It’s okay, Hilda. Just relax.” 

_How_ could she relax, if she was dying? _How_?

She barely feels a pinch on her arm, and she’s submerged back into darkness.

* * *

The next time she wakes, it’s not her body that’s on fire anymore.

It’s her head.

Hilda feels like her head is being split open with an axe, and she knows she must be high on analgesics, because the pain is down to a tolerable _unbearably excruciating_ , but not as bad as when Manuela had been prodding her body and saving her life.

Her eyelids feel impossibly heavy, but she manages to crack one open, and bare walls greet her. The stark white of them stabs at her brain, _an infirmary_ of some sort, and she wishes she could be unconscious again. It was the only time she wasn’t in pain, or if she was, she could at least not register it.

“ _Hilda_ ,” Marianne’s whisper is raised at the end, maybe as a question. She senses that she’s beside her. Hilda’s brain was too sluggish to properly understand any of it, let alone process any of the quiet girl’s tone.

She’s on a bed –might be the only one in the room, she can’t really tell– and her chest and torso are heavily bandaged. Some parts look crusty with blood, and she wonders just how bad the damage must be underneath for it to keep bleeding.

Magical wounds bore different results from those inflicted by good ol’ weapons. They were kind of unpredictable. They could either be really easy to heal with a vulnerary and a good night’s sleep, _ooor_ they could cripple you for life with aftershocks of it coursing through your veins. 

Or just outright kill you.

Her body must have been a mess after being hit with two consecutive spells, one black magic and the other white… it was short of a miracle she was alive at all. 

The identities of the personnel of the medical team earlier could only mean one thing.

She was a prisoner of the Empire.

Derdriu had fallen.

While their defeat had honestly been inevitable, it still weighs heavily on her, and her failure hangs over her head like the darkest of storm clouds. Hilda can’t crane her neck to properly look around without risking another world of hurt, so she stays perfectly still with her eyes half open. 

A couple of seconds pass before she snaps them open, and they nearly bulge out of their sockets when an urgent, inescapable concern starts to weigh on her already burdened chest.

“ _Claude_?” she croaks, voice completely hoarse. 

“Exiled,” Marianne breathes out, and the sheer relief that washes over Hilda is enough to knock her out again. 

* * *

For the next several days, she drifts in and out of consciousness, and at first, she can’t string together a sentence longer than a few words, but Marianne is always there when she wakes.

The first time she tries to reach for the other girl’s face, she finds that her hands are shackled to the bed, granting barely any movement. They aren’t regular metal, either, Hilda notices that Marianne had to mutter an incantation and undo a rune spell to get them off when she needed to be washed or moved.

They definitely weren’t risking her escaping, huh. 

Luckily, the Edmund heir has a natural knack for understanding her groans of pain and pleading eyes, and that’s how they communicate at first. Marianne mostly either feeds her liquids or tends to her slowly healing wounds, but other than Manuela, she doesn’t get any visitors.

Her initial half-delirious assessment had been right: the cocktail of dark and light magic she’d been hit with had done a massive number on her body, and if the Golden Deer girls hadn’t healed her immediately after dishing it, she would have _most definitely_ breathed her last.

Hilda comes to learn that they’re still in the Aquatic Capital, in one of the hospitals there. She’s honestly not sure if she dreamt it or not, but Marianne _may have_ mentioned that half the army had rushed back to Garreg Mach to defend it after a very ballsy attack on behalf of the Church trying to recapture it while they had their sights on the Alliance.

Days blurred together, and she spent most of them either completely unconscious or wishing she was. She definitely loses track of time, but it’s a _long ass time_ before she gets a new visitor.

By then, she can talk, and mostly hold a conversation before her body demands its much needed rest again. Unfortunately, her visitor is not someone she’s remotely interested in seeing just yet.

“Hilda! I am quite pleased to see you. Although you certainly have looked better,” is what Lorenz Hellman Gloucester decides is a proper greeting. “Fear not, for you will recover most wonderfully. Those bags under your eyes will be gone soon enough!”

“ _Lorenz_ ,” she hisses. She hadn’t forgot how his family had abandoned the Alliance in their time of greatest need. “You’ve got some nerve, asshole.” 

The Gloucesters had been very openly pro-empire, but for five years they hadn’t formally switched sides. Lorenz had even worked closely with her and Claude to keep the Alliance stable for half a decade among the squabbling nobles. It was only after the taking of the Great Bridge of Myrddin that they felt confident enough to pledge themselves to Edelgard’s cause, toppling Leicester’s power structure for good. 

Needless to say, she had a _little, teensy grudge_.

“Do you want me to apologize for picking the winning side?” Lorenz places a hand over his heart as if offended. “Claude was wrong not to accept the emperor’s offer. So were _you_.”

Hilda desperately wishes Marianne were here to provide some sort of buffer between them. Goddess, she hated how smug he looked and sounded. A reunion with literally any of the other Golden Deer would have been exponentially better than _him_.

“Leave,” she growls, but she can’t quite get the bite behind it, and she hates how her damaged body won’t let her convey just how pissed she actually is. 

He flares his nostrils but does not budge from his place beside the bed. The purple-haired man folds his arms in front of his chest, squishing the red rose he’d pinned to his lapel. “You are in no position to make such demands.”

“You know who else abandons a ship when it’s sinking? _Rats_.” 

Lorenz narrows his eyes, but says nothing. It just makes her angrier. 

“Holst would be _sooo_ livid,” Hilda laments, “And to think I talked so highly of you in my letters to him… thank you, I guess. Finally someone other than me can be the colossal disappointment in his eyes.”

She hadn’t heard much from Holst other than that he was fully cooperating with the Empire, given that Leicester territories were under Adrestian control, _and_ the fact that his little sister was their prisoner.

She missed him _so much_.

Her words seem to cut him deep, “You did not take such issue with any of the other Golden Deer. Marianne, for example–”

“It’s not the same! The others left when Byleth returned!” Hilda snaps, “ _You stayed_. Claude and I thought–” she has to swallow down the building rage before continuing, “–we thought wrong, I suppose. It would have been different had you answered Byleth’s call from the start. But you and your family of buffoons only turned when Claude had all but lost.”

“A _strategic retreat_ , I believe our beloved leader would have called it?”

“ _Get out_!” If Hilda had been able to, she probably would have chased him out herself. 

Lorenz’s lips press into a thin line, “I have something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“It’s a letter.”

_Holst?_

From his fancy purple jacket, he produces a rectangle of paper that had seen better days. Lorenz hands her the yellowed piece, that was once upon a time a proper letter, but was now crumpled up and the seal of wax had very clearly been tampered with.

“Thanks, mailboy.” She plucks it from his fingers and wrinkles her nose, “Wow, couldn’t even pretend you don’t read through my shit, huh?”

“Must you be so vulgar? You’re a prisoner,” he reminds her, with that annoying air of superiority the years hadn’t washed away. “Your correspondence belongs to the Empire.”

“ _Your correspondence belongs to the Empire_ ,” she mimics back in a nasal tone, and Lorenz scoffs at her imitation. 

She flips the envelope over, failing to find an address or a sender. All that’s scribbled across the front in blocky handwriting is “HILDA V.G”. She scratches off what’s left of the wax, and pulls out the letter itself.

She doesn’t recognize the penmanship either. So, _not Holst_.

“Where’d you get this?” She squints at the short paragraphs, how they’re strictly divided into lines of threes… very bizarre. 

“Balthus was caught with the intent to deliver this to you… he refused to say from _who_ ,” the future Count had always been very poor at hiding his annoyance. “His suspicious acting left me no choice but to see it through myself.”

Her eyes widen, but she refuses to outright ask. Balthus _was supposed_ to be with Holst back in Goneril, taking care of things with her gone, but apparently, he’d gone and got himself captured trying to deliver her a letter. 

Great.

“Oh, so you _stole this_ from Baltie… _nice_ ,” Hilda can perfectly picture the bumbling well-intentioned guy trying to deliver this to her, only for his plan to be foiled by Lorenz. 

Stealth wasn’t his strong suit, honestly. He was probably threatened with one of his numerous debts to the Gloucester family to get him to fork over the letter.

The message is brief, written almost like a riddle, in a sort of lyrical way, if that makes any sense? She finishes, and she might as well have not done so, because what she gathered from her reading could only be described as gibberish. 

That is, until she sees that the letter is signed.

She feels the Gloucester boy’s sharp eyes hovering above her, “Who is Khalid?”

Hilda’s about to ask the exact same thing, because _nothing_ in the letter makes sense. She’s unfamiliar with the poetry-like style, and she wonders what kind of crafty little _brain_ would come up with this stuff…

And then she knows.

 _Claude_.

It _had to_ be.

One verse of the letter in particular, read:

_my name is a name_

_that is really too dashing_

_for moms to pass up_

She quickly counts the syllables… _5-7-5_. Hilda can’t, for the life of her, remember what this style of poetry was called, but Claude had tried to teach her the cute little sequence eons ago when they’d been skipping class.

In Abyss, her house leader had told Baltie that _Claude_ was a common name in Fódlan, as well as a popular choice for fake names– _an all-purpose moniker_. At the time it had been plain _weird_ , and Hilda just figured he was messing with everyone with an awkward joke, by implying that _Claude_ wasn’t actually his name, so she’d brushed it off.

Hilda would have cried if she wasn’t being watched like a hawk by Lorenz.

Claude had managed to get in touch, even going as far as forging a different handwriting and changing the flow of his sentences and mannerisms. He’d tied it up together in a strange message, counting on its contents being read by others before reaching her eyes, trusting that only she’d understand.

It was hard not to be in awe of him sometimes, that clever, clever man. That fake front he’d put on in front of everyone else, wanting them to underestimate him, had taken her a long time to see through, but eventually she got there, and she could _see him_.

An obscure reference right by the end to her ancestral family home lets her know where he is,

_at last let me say_

_that the guarded throat's been crossed_

_we will laugh again_

Confident that this was sent by him, it doesn’t take her long to figure out which place he’s been exiled to after Edelgard spared his life.

Almyra. 

Hilda was mortally embarrassed about her ignorance growing up regarding the neighboring country. She’d been a dumb kid, spoon-fed by her father’s generation to hold prejudices against a whole lot of people she didn’t even know.

Claude had never outright said it, but Hilda wasn’t an idiot. She saw the way he treated Cyril, the… _connection_ there. His hints throughout their time together hadn’t been subtle, either. Her house leader would always gently and indirectly steer her towards questioning her beliefs and challenging her opinions, hellbent on expanding her mind.

Once, Claude went on a rant about warrior-culture, how barbaric it was to have child soldiers, to teach them to fight before they can even read, and to value the dead above the living. In her usual idiot ways, she’d assumed he was talking about Almyra, but she’d never forget the dead serious look in his eyes when he said, _no_ , _I’m talking about Faerghus_.

For five years she worked to unlearn the harmful stereotypes she’d grown up with, refusing to carry them over to her adult life. Claude himself had been proud of her growth. 

Meeting Nader had also contributed to her wake-up call. When Claude finally revealed that this man who’d served as his combat instructor as a kid, was actually a renowned general of Almyra, and _The Undefeated_ at that, Hilda hadn’t known _what_ to think. 

That changed when the grizzly old man found out she was Holst’s sister. Apparently, despite being mortal enemies, Holst was quite popular in Almyra, having earned a fierce reputation as a worthy foe. He was delighted to find out she was an axe-wielding, wyvern-riding warrior, who frequently put Claude in his place. They’d been buddies since. 

Her heart’s beating so fast it’s starting to disrupt her other wounds, making her whole ribcage ache, but for once, she embraces it. She must have had a pretty dopey look on her face, because Lorenz is suddenly agitated. 

“I think you do know who this Khalid person is,” Lorenz looks uncomfortable, and extends his hand, “I will be taking that back to trace the source–”

Hilda couldn’t touch her own face with her shackled hands, but her chest (no longer bandaged!) was within reach. She shoves the letter down her cleavage, and smirks when Lorenz’s face goes beet red and his hand hovers uncertainly a few inches from her body.

“Go ahead,” she says haughtily. “Given your history, _I’m sure_ everyone will believe you were groping my chest _looking for a letter_.”

The infamous story of Professor Byleth privately pulling Lorenz aside to discuss how creepy his advances were towards female students was well-known, and in the end he’d somewhat improved, but she knew the subject was still touchy for him.

“This is outrageous. You–”

“Hilda?” 

Leonie stands in the doorway, looking sheepish. Not counting old experiences on the battlefield, the Goneril heir had never been happier in her life to see the hunter. She could use a healthier reunion right about now.

“Oh. Lorenz.” The redhead says. “I, uh, kinda wanted to patch things up with Hilda, but if you two aren’t done–”

“We’re done,” Hilda raises her eyebrows innocently. “Lorenz was just leaving. Weren’t you?”

The sheer dirty look he gives her makes her smile for the first time in weeks.

* * *

Slowly, she lets the former Golden Deer back into her heart.

With some, it’s seamless. She cannot physically stay mad at Marianne, as it’s impossible to hold a grudge against someone that sweet and caring. Ignatz and Raphael hadn’t _really_ directly wronged her, so it’s easy to pick up again from where they’d left off five years ago. 

With the others, it’s rockier.

Leonie was more oriented towards tough love. She didn’t use tact to address what went down at the naval port, more like shrugged that it was unfortunate, and made a couple of jokes. What swayed Hilda in the end was that she occasionally brought her small peace offerings mostly consisting on snacks she couldn’t yet eat.

She eventually chipped away at Hilda’s distrust and started to join in on Marianne’s visits, which was nice. Leonie had the most information about what was going on in the war, so they got updates from her during improvised card games, as Hilda’s good behavior was earning her more privileges every day.

Apparently, the Imperial forces were victorious in their defense against Rhea’s attack on the Monastery. Hilda’s surprised to learn that Seteth and Flayn were spared by the emperor’s orders, driven off and never to be heard from again, but nevertheless _alive_.

Next on the agenda seemed to be to march through the Tailtean Plains to start the siege of Arianrhod, to ultimately take Fhirdiad. It was shaping up to be a busy month. 

After taking down Leicester, the former Golden Deer had stayed behind to heal and recharge, all save the youngest among them.

Hilda’s fevered little brain was sure that Lysithea had been there during Hilda’s initial operation, but had been whisked away shortly after to join the Black Eagle Strike Force against Rhea’s attack.

Hilda hadn’t seen her, and she wasn’t really sure where they stood.

Marianne insisted on how sorry the young mage was, but warned her that she would be too stubborn to properly acknowledge she’d used a bit of excessive force when Hilda had already been down, which, _hmph_.

It’s during one of their card games that one of the nameless Imperial guards informs the trio that the troops stationed in Derdriu would be transferred to join the main bulk of the army at Garreg Mach to prepare for the final push.

The guard bearing the news gives them a stern look when he sees Hilda’s out of her magical bonds, and orders them to put them back on at once. Hilda can’t even muster up the energy to explain to him she can barely keep food down, let alone execute some grand escape. 

“Would that mean travel by carriage?” Hilda feels sick to her stomach just thinking about the bumpy, uncomfortable ride. She was by no means fully recovered yet. She even needs Leonie to help her get back on the bed, their cards forgotten with the news.

“I could give you a sedative if you experience any discomfort,” Marianne says, followed by a low incantation on the chains that wrap themselves around her wrists in a flash of purple. 

“Speaking of discomfort, here!” Leonie retrieves the concoction from the nightstand that Hilda had been dreading all afternoon, “Drink up!”

She knows it’s for her own good, but she can’t help but turn her nose up at the disgusting herb mix that’s sitting in a cup. “Ugh! Marianne, why does it smell like cow’s ass?”

“I… wouldn’t know what that smells like,” Marianne has one of those rare, tiny smiles that border on a smirk. “Do you?”

Hilda gapes in fake indignation, loving the Edmund girl’s amusement even if it’s at her expense. Leonie shudders, “I do! It’s not the greatest smell...”

Marianne hides a laugh behind her hand as Hilda continues to make faces at the cup. The chain pulls taut as she tries to bring it to her lips, “This is so stupid. I can’t even reach my face!”

Leonie takes it from her, “Oh. Uh. Here, I’ll help–”

She’s temporarily saved from the smelly medicine when the guard outside yelps in surprise and talks in hushed tones with someone temporarily out of Hilda’s line of sight. 

Her heart does a triple flip upon seeing a flash of white hair over the man’s shoulder, thinking it’s _the Emperor_ , back from her valiant defense of her base of operations, but once they step in, realizes it’s not her.

It’s Lysithea. 

“Hilda,” the younger girl’s posture is extremely formal, like she had an iron rod strapped to her back.

Guilt practically bleeds from her pores.

She’s still in her Gremory outfit, and from the brownish blood on it and the matted fur, it’s like she stepped out of battle and came directly here without bothering with a change of clothes. Clearly, she had not grown out of her gross habit of overworking herself.

“Hey, kiddo. Step into my office,” Hilda wiggles her fingers weakly. Claude was no longer around to call her that, so she decides to pick up the slack. The Ordelia girl goes to stand stiffly beside her bed with heavy footsteps.

Hilda should have probably been at least a little bit upset that the mage who’d certainly gone for overkill after being knocked from her steed was there, but she can’t come up with any negative feelings towards someone that, in her mind, she still considered a friend.

It’s the Golden Deer gals together again!

Her face flushes red, “I’m twenty years old. I’m not a child.”

“ _Yeah_ , no shit,” Hilda gestures at her overall fucked up state, “No child would be able to blast me with Hades into another dimension.” 

Although it had been Marianne’s Aura that had initially knocked her off, Lysithea had quickly followed up with the most powerful dark magic spell in her arsenal. It had happened so fast, Hilda actually needed to be told the whole story because there was a huge gap in her memory right after her wyvern died.

“I t-thought you were reaching for Freikugel,” Lysithea’s cherry eyes are wide and her lower lip is trembling, “How was I supposed to know you were just going to let us kill you–”

“Heh, well, Claude did say I should retreat, but… you know me. I have very selective hearing–”

The breath is knocked from her lungs as Lysithea collapses on top of her in a fierce embrace, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Hilda awkwardly places a hand on top of her head in what she hopes is a soothing gesture.

Guess she knew where they stood now.

“You could have killed me,” Lysithea mumbles against her stomach, “You had the range, the advantage, the speed–”

“–but not the heart,” Hilda says gently. Lysithea raises her head, looking fifteen years old again with tear-streaked cheeks. She offers a crooked smile, “None of your little books accounted for that, huh?”

The Ordelia girl sniffles loudly and takes a seat beside Marianne on the bed. “No, strategy books usually do not prepare you to face loyal friends.” 

“That’s sweet,” Hilda swallows down one of the random waves of nausea the aftermath of her morning concoction occasionally brought on. She did not look forward to drinking her evening dose. “Interesting way of saying the books don’t account for dumbass moves.” 

“You weren’t dumb,” Marianne murmurs, and she shares the same guilty energy that’s rolling off of Lysithea in waves.

“That’s debatable,” Hilda tries to sit up a little, but her shackled hands make it virtually impossible to rise more than a couple inches.

Both girls immediately start fussing over her, fluffing up her pillows and helping her into a sort of half-sitting position. It had been a hot minute since she’d been cared for in this way. Even Leonie leans down and offers her mucky cup, and Hilda takes a long, painful sip. 

Yep. Cow’s ass.

She feels Lysithea’s red-rimmed eyes on her, watching her. Hilda knows she’s sorry for what she did. She doesn’t need a spelled-out apology, it’s plain as day on the younger girl’s face, so she doesn’t demand one, as she doesn’t really require it to move forward.

“Have you… talked to Edelgard yet?” Lysithea asks.

 _Of all the things_...

“Um. _No_.” Hilda snorts into the cup and moves her head away, coughing wildly, as Leonie takes it back. 

When she’s fairly confident she won’t hack up a lung, she asks, “I woke up and half of you had run off to defend the Monastery. Plus, why would I? Does the emperor directly speak to every prisoner of the Empire?”

Lysithea rolls her eyes. “You’re not just _any_ prisoner.”

“I’m not special.” She insists.

“Tell that to Edelgard,” Lysithea smirks, and she’s none too happy at the way Marianne’s face splits into a conspiratorial smile. Even Leonie has a wolfish grin. 

She’d done her absolute best not to think about the Emperor during her time in captivity. Her feelings were so jumbled together it was just easier to focus on her physical pain instead of her emotional one, and _that_ was saying something.

“I don’t even know why I’m allowed to live,” Hilda raises her eyes to the ceiling. “You’ve no idea how many Imperial soldiers I’ve killed, especially back home–”

“Oh, I do know. I was in charge of doing the math,” the Ordelia girl says dryly, probably recalling countless headaches Hilda had caused. “You’re more valuable alive than dead.”

“Gee, thanks!” 

“Maybe it’s healthy that you’ve had space away from each other,” Lysithea says, her brows knit together. “I doubt you would have been too happy to see _me_ immediately after waking up...considering what happened.”

It was true, in a sense. She’d had no problems with Marianne, given that it had been the Edmund girl who had healed her out there with her Physic, and then accompanied her in every step thereafter. 

With Lys, though… yes, it might have been an entirely different rodeo, had the physical and metaphorical wounds still been fresh. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t as tricky patching things up as Hilda had initially expected. Time and space had definitely contributed to this positive outcome.

The rest of them descend into small talk regarding the recent battle at school in more detail, what was to come, etc, etc, and Hilda’s eyes are starting to droop, their voices lulling her to unconsciousness…

When she wakes, she’s in her old room at Garreg Mach.

* * *

It’s an achievement when she can stay awake longer than a few hours at a time.

Unfortunately for her, her present company doesn’t make the feat worth it.

Hubert von Vestra stands in the corner of the room, tall and dark as always. 

It didn’t really feel like her room anymore. After she’d fled in a hurry, she’d left a lot of stuff behind, and it clearly got looted by the bandits that inhabited this place for five years. All the furniture had been used for target practice or goddess knows what else, as it was very damaged.

She really, really hated it.

Edelgard wasn’t her neighbor anymore. The emperor had taken up residence in Rhea’s old quarters, which she thought was a little weird, but it was infinitely better for her that she wasn’t right next door. It made her easy to avoid.

She considers pretending to be asleep, but his beady little eye already saw her stir. 

“Is this divine punishment?” Hilda’s voice is still kind of hoarse with disuse, but the Minister of the Imperial Household hears her all the same.

He chuckles, “For you and me both.” 

Hilda tries to laugh, but all her face can manage is a painful grimace, and it feels like someone kicked her in the ribs. As far as her wardens went, she far preferred the company of Marianne.

“Do not strain yourself, Goneril.” Outstandingly, his face is one of sympathy... or as close as he can manage. 

Ever since they rejoined the Imperial army at Garreg Mach to prepare for their move against Faerghus, there’s been a significant rotation of the people tasked to guard her. She suspects it’s a chore that some member of the army gets assigned, switching it up every day.

She far preferred any of the Golden Deer, but she had to admit she’d been happy to see friends from other houses as well, such as chatty Annette or energetic Caspar. The latter almost cracked her ribs again when he hugged her, thanking her for not killing him back on the Bridge. 

His comment helped explain the privileged treatment she was receiving. Hilda had spared a handful of key members of their army, two of them direct members of the elite Strike Force, so maybe that’s why she hadn’t been tossed into a proper dungeon.

This is the first time Hubie himself oversaw the task, though.

His tall frame moves towards the door, “I will call for Her Majesty.”

Hilda would have jumped into his path had she been able to. “ _Please_. Don’t.” 

Surprisingly, he pauses, as if waiting for her to provide him with a good reason.

She doesn’t have one, other than _she doesn’t want to see Edelgard_.

He looks uncomfortable when he eventually replies, “She gave specific instructions to inform her when you came to. She was disappointed when she missed your initial waking, and all the brief snippets thereafter.”

It had become a dangerous dance to avoid Edelgard in her own base of operations, confined to one room, but she danced it perfectly. Mostly, she pretended to be asleep when it appeared that an important visitor was coming. Nine times out of ten, it was the Emperor trying to talk, but ever respectful, she left as soon as Hilda started to snore.

She just… _wasn’t ready_. But how do you convey that to the vassal that thought his charge could do no wrong?

The pink-haired girl squeezes her eyes shut, trying to find an acceptable justification for the likes of Hubert. Hilda doesn’t know if what she’s about to say is an offense punishable by death, but she says it all the same, “I think I hate her.”

Slowly, she opens her eyes, expecting to be met with Hubert’s cold fury, but he just looks like Holst does when Hilda says some bullshit. “I used to say the same thing about Ferdinand.” 

“And?”

“And now, we’re to be married in the spring.”

Hilda fake-gags, first, at the imagery of someone actually willingly marrying _Hubert_ , and secondly, at his stupid implications. There’s a slight smirk on his face that she loathes, but since he’s not running off to fetch his liege, she suspects he’s giving her another chance to explain herself.

In the grand scheme of things, she mostly hated the way she _didn’t_ hate Edelgard, not really. Not at all. By all means, she should. 

Right?

Something akin to honesty claws its way up her throat, “I... I’m afraid.”

The short sentence in itself was difficult to offer, but despite her effort, Hubert looks unimpressed. “I know words are hard, but perhaps try using some more, Goneril?” he prompts.

“I’m afraid that… that she has this _power_ over me, and it has nothing to do with her station,” Hilda rushes out. It reminded her of the confession box at Garreg Mach for some reason. “Like, just… _how_ many times can she do as she pleases and how many times am I gonna be here, waiting to forgive her, take her back?”

She doesn’t wait for a response before her thought process gathers steam, as the right words she hadn’t been able to find for weeks finally are within her reach to produce a semi-coherent dissection of her feelings.

“ _Plus_ , do I _really_ know this person? I mean, I _thought_ I did,” she punctuates it with a bitter chuckle, which luckily her damaged body doesn’t punish her for. “Is she the sweet girl I knew, or the mother-killer Dimitri claims her to be? I’m just… I’m tired of her _hurting me._ ”

It’s _super_ embarrassing venting like this to _Hubert_ of all people, but for some reason she feels compelled to do it. He knew Edelgard best, knew her since she was four years old. Maybe he had something of value to add.

He mulls over her little speech, clasping his hands behind his back. The older man looks quite out of place in what used to be her sunny, yellow-accented room, when he’s all dark robes and sharp angles.

“Love _does_ mean giving someone the power to hurt you, over and over,” Hubert muses, “It is a choice you must make, every day.”

 _HUH_?

“ _Nobody_ said _anything_ about love,” Hilda feels the color rise to her face faster than she can even get the defensive words out. 

She’d been sorely mistaken, Hubert von Vestra had _nothing_ of value to add. She should have pretended to be asleep.

He tilts his head to the side, “Hmm. It sounds an awful lot like love.”

A beat.

“... It could be.” Hilda shrugs her shoulders all the way to her ears.

The admission shocks even her. 

Hubert sighs, his unusually pale eyes pinning her with an aggravated look, “I really believe this is a conversation you should be having with Her Majesty, _not me_. We will march on Arianrhod in two days, and you will miss your chance. At this hour, she should be unoccupied, let me just–”

“No!” 

She feels immature even as the word leaves her mouth, but she can’t help it. It was almost on reflex. She _wasn’t_ ready. Not enough time and space had passed for her to confront the conflict raging inside her. What would she even say? Where to even begin?

Hubert, needless to say, does not look amused at her childish antics.

“You cannot avoid her forever,” frustration is starting to creep into his tone. “So, I suggest you sort out your feelings, and soon.” 

“I’m not _avoiding her_ ,” Hilda lies, and raises one shackled hand to shake it, making it rattle. “I can’t really actively do that, can I?”

“Pretending to be asleep when she’s near counts as avoidance.” 

Hilda grits her teeth as a wave of pain shoots up her arm; even something as stupid as waving it around like she did could trigger the discomfort. She had a long recovery ahead before she could give herself the luxury of exaggerated hand gestures.

Something resembling pity crosses Hubert’s face and he clears his throat, “Can you consume solids yet?”

“Manuela doesn’t recommend it, but technically I can,” she narrows her eyes at his suddenly shifty disposition. “Why?”

He gets an odd look that could only be described as hesitation, “The kitchen is making one of my favorite dishes today.”

“What? The hearts of newborns?” 

A thin-lipped smile lets her know there’s a sense of humor under there, “Sadly, not today. It’s two-fish saute. Perhaps I can arrange for you to receive the leftovers.”

Claude had once made a random comment about how curious it was that Hubert, Dedue and Hilda, retainers to their house leaders, all liked the same buttery dish. Her only real conversations with those two had, in fact, been over their enjoyment of the fishy goodness. 

Hubert remembered.

She got the feeling the older man would not react well if she were to tease him about liking her more than he let on, so she doesn’t. But it doesn’t mean she can’t pull out her old charm and make him feel good about this. 

“Oh! Thank you, Hubert. That’s very kind!” And those were maybe the most civil set of words to ever come out of her mouth directed at him.

He inclines his head in acknowledgement, says nothing, but he seems pleased. Maybe Ferdinand didn’t have worms for brains like she’d initially thought. Also, like, this was Edelgard’s best friend… he couldn’t be all bad, right? 

But she can’t stop herself from prodding. “May I ask… why?”

He doesn’t answer her for a little while, as if deep in thought. He approaches the chipped and damaged remains of her desk, running a gloved finger over its edge. Eventually, he looks up.

“You are loyal to a fault,” he says simply. “It is something I live with as well. Much like you, if I were to be at odds with Her Majesty…” he shivers, like the idea disgusts him. “I do not think I would be able to harm her, even if my life depended on it.”

Hilda stares at him, at a loss for words, her eyebrows almost reaching her hairline. Starting to get uncomfortable by her gaze, he shrugs those lanky shoulders of his.

“It’s quite impressive,” he adds.

Despite promising herself she wouldn’t, her resolve quickly crumbles. She _has to_ tease him. “So, you admire me, huh?” 

“As one does a bear jumping through a hoop of fire. One sees it so rarely.”

This time she does manage a small chuckle, but she’s quickly punished for it by her lungs screaming at her that she’s not allowed to express amusement. He notices, and the pity from earlier ghosts over his features.

“Her Majesty may not be available after all. Your meeting with her will have to be postponed,” Hubert says, heading for the door. “I shall leave you to your rest.”

A small mercy, but one she appreciates all the same.

* * *

She went from _prisoner_ to _guest_ remarkably fast.

Hilda didn’t get to fully enjoy her looted room at Garreg Mach, because when the Imperial Army was set to invade the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus at long last, she was sent to Enbarr by orders of the Minister of the Imperial Household.

The Imperial capital was the safest place to be, or so everyone said. She’d barely settled into a lavish room at the Imperial Palace (with barred windows and armed security at all hours) when she got word that king Dimitri fell at the Tailtean Plains by Edelgard’s hand.

She remembered sharing a ride away from their ruined school with the rabid prince, at the beginning of his madness, and prayed that at least in death he found some peace upon meeting with the ghosts that hadn’t let him live. 

Hilda’s a bit stunned to realize that, despite the unfortunate loss of Dedue and Dimitri, not very many people she knew back then were lost to this war. They had either joined Adrestia or been exiled; but allowed to live. 

Seteth and Flayn’s survival still surprised her to this day; she wondered if the grumpy second-in-command to Rhea had retired somewhere peaceful to continue writing his fables and live out his days with his sister (or, _daughter_ , according to Claude’s half-baked theories… goddess, _she missed him_.)

The only perk of being under this “house arrest” was that Baltie was also receiving _very_ good treatment from their captors, after Constance and Hapi vouched for him. He got assigned a room right around the corner from her, and depending on the guards, if she honeyed her words just right, they sometimes allowed them to talk seven feet apart and with shackled hands, but hey.

Having him there was therapeutic. Hilda was scared half to death for her friends fighting in Fhirdiad. Her friends… and Edelgard.

She was worried about her, too.

It hadn’t occurred to her that she may not come back at all, and the foreboding thought has her anxious as fuck. Guilt gnaws at her heart for being so cowardly that she singlehandedly managed to prevent a much-needed reunion between them.

Incredibly, the big doofus known as Balthus somehow manages to get her mind off their situation of constant mortal danger, at least for the few precious minutes they were allowed to interact. When she was alone, it was back to torturing herself over her poorly planned decisions.

Her recovery had been long and painful, but before leaving the Monastery for good, she got Manuela’s stamp of approval that she was mostly healed, so her boredom became more pronounced as her sleeping cycle stopped being fucked up and monopolizing her time.

Since her behavior was good, but not good enough for any kind of reward, she took to ripping up one of the bedsheets to make some crafting materials she could braid together to keep her hands and mind busy. 

All she had to work with was cloth, as they did not trust her with anything else. She hadn’t worn earrings since Derdriu, and she’d asked, but they were concerned that she’d use them to pick the door’s lock… which, to be fair, she _could_ hypothetically try and do.

Baltie almost cries when she manages to sneak him a friendship bracelet.

It’s exactly then, when they’re in one of their heavily-supervised meetings, that a sound rings out all across the city.

The toll of the bells of Enbarr announce that the war is won.

Their guards almost leave their posts entirely to rush outside, but they do remember to lock them back in, much to Hilda’s displeasure. She can’t even look out the window to see the uproar on the streets, since her barred window faces only the gardens, but she can _hear it_ all the way to her room.

The celebrations (which of course she’s not invited to) last for three days, as the people of Enbarr wait for their troops and Emperor to march home.

*** * ***

She’s messing around with her scraps of material one late afternoon, a couple of days after the Imperial army’s arrival to the capital, when she gets a brand-new visitor.

Byleth Eisner strolls in, wearing their dark mercenary armor like they used to back in the Academy days, the one with the stupidly long sleeves trailing behind them.

“Hello, Hilda.”

Hilda has to do a double take upon seeing them.

Their hair and eyes aren’t green anymore.

They’re back to the classic dark blue, giving them back that air of familiarity and humanity they had been stripped from when the goddess Sothis fused with them or whatever _that_ business had been. 

For lack of a better thing to do, she gapes. “Your– Your hair!” 

“Indeed,” a warm smile she’d never seen them do before lights up their whole face, and it comes to them easily. They kneel beside her by her crafting setup, “I have a heartbeat now. Here, feel.”

“I–I believe you,” Hilda would rather keep her hand away from the mercenary’s chest, so she busies them by continuing to sort through her scraps of cloth. “How’d it happen, anyway?”

A strange look crosses Byleth’s face as they sit back on their heels. “The Immaculate One has been defeated.”

It takes her an embarrassing amount of time to process their words, it should have been obvious. But when she does, her eyes widen to twice their size. “Wait, wait, wait… _Rhea’s gone_?!”

“When humanity stands strong and people reach out for each other... there’s no need for gods.”

Hilda would recognize that voice _anywhere_.

Edelgard stands at the entrance to her room, looking exhausted but… _content_. She’s not in her usual full-emperor regalia. The younger girl looks almost… casual, wearing a lacy white shirt and black slacks, her hair long and loose, recently brushed.

“You certainly like that quote. Did you write it down somewhere?” Byleth tells the emperor. Hilda realizes she’s witnessing the professor actually _teasing_ someone, good-naturedly.

Before, Byleth had been accidentally funny. It had stemmed from them taking things literally or replying so bluntly you just had to laugh. Also, their resting bitch face in response to literally anything being said to them had been her and Claude’s favorite thing to look out for. But watching them deliberately joke like this, it’s kind of nice to see.

The weird ‘ _I have a heartbeat now_ ’ comment went probably deeper than Hilda was able to comprehend at the moment. Byleth’s eyes certainly looked more… _alive_ , and _human_ , than they had ever been, even before fusing with the goddess.

“What can I say? It _is_ one for the history books,” Edelgard’s good mood is obvious as she gives her teacher a fond little smile, and cautiously joins them in Hilda’s makeshift crafting station in the middle of the floor.

They hadn’t seen each other in over a month, since the fall of Derdriu. Edelgard had been rushing to battle after battle, and the brief window between her defense of the Monastery and the march to the Tailtean Plains to take Fhirdiad had been the one where Hilda had refused to see her.

Upon further reflection, it had probably been for the best. Hilda’s emotions had been all over the place, and Lorenz had probably got the worst of her volatile temper. If she’d talked to Edelgard earlier, she probably would have lashed out and deliberately caused the wrath of the Emperor to her own detriment.

Her head’s cooler now, more centered. She was calm. Not to say something mean and fiery won’t possess her suddenly, but chances were lower now... maybe. No, yeah, they definitely were. 

Weren’t they?

Up close, she realizes Edelgard’s outfit isn’t as simple as it appeared. The lace work on her shirt is intricate, and her thigh-high boots had gold accents in them, in true Enbarr fashion. She tries not to hyper focus on the lovely way those pants hug her body, definitely flattering her short stature.

In contrast, Hilda had been quite humbled by her experiences. She hadn’t done her makeup or her hair beyond simple ponytails since her capture. Her ears, wrists and neck were all bare of any kind of accessory, so she wasn’t adorned with anything; in her opinion, it made her look… plain. She wasn’t a big fan, despite Marianne’s assurances that she still looked great.

A long moment passes before Hilda realizes she’s staring, and the conflict in her face must show, because Edelgard shrinks a little under the attention.

Upon noticing, Byleth clambers to their feet and bow their head in Edelgard’s direction. To Hilda, they offer a small wave. As they make their way towards the door, they give the younger girl a thumbs-up, “I’ll leave you two to it. I know you’ve been anxious for this moment.”

They may be more at ease in their skin now, but the former mercenary is as tactless with social interactions as they’ve always been, and Edelgard’s ears glow red. “ _Professor_ –”

“What? It’s true. On the way back to Enbarr, you said you hoped–”

“ _Thank you_ , but I can take it from here,” she practically shoos them all the way to the door, almost like a small herding dog chasing out one big sheep. 

Hilda boos, “Professor, I wanna know what she said!”

Byleth opens their mouth, happy to reply, but their eager expression is replaced by the door shutting in their face, a flustered Edelgard’s gloved hand splayed on the wood. 

With her other hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales softly. Honestly, if she weren’t the all-powerful Emperor of _all_ Fódlan, Edelgard would easily pass for any other awkward twenty-something year old.

Before Hilda has to rack her brain for something, _anything_ , to say, the white-haired girl beats her to it. “You would speak to Hubert, but not me?”

Ah. Part of her had wondered if Edelgard’s feelings had been hurt when she’d feigned unconsciousness whenever she visited. The greater part of her knew Edelgard to be competent enough to grasp when her presence was unwanted, and to respect her wishes, which she’d done.

Hilda feels the corner of her mouth quirk up, “For the record, every second of that conversation was against my will.”

A silence that isn’t as uncomfortable as she’d expected drags between them, with Edelgard staying by the door and Hilda still leaning against the wooden frame of her bed. Edelgard’s gaze is trained on the ceiling, as if deciding on what she wanted to say, but the quietness is becoming stifling. 

When Hilda can’t take it anymore, she blurts out, “You spared Claude… and me.”

Lavender eyes flick down to focus on her. That was probably _not_ what the emperor had in mind, on topics she wanted to touch on, but she nods, and runs with it.

“I did. It was logical, because, as you well know, given Claude’s _origins_ , he will be instrumental in the future I envision,” Edelgard says. “If _you_ had been killed, Holst would have gladly let Almyra’s finest flood in and attack us from the east, overwhelming our forces, perhaps changing the tide of the war.”

“I see.” Hilda says. Those words seem rehearsed, like it’s what the official documents bearing her stamp say to justify the decision, but she’s nowhere near satisfied with that. She raises a brow, “Those are all very acceptable reasons… any others?”

Edelgard looks away, “Personal reasons.”

Despite that being the answer she was sort of fishing for, it still sends Hilda’s head spinning. She’d paid no heed to Hubert’s advice ( _threat_?) of sorting out her feelings before meeting with Edelgard, and now she was paying the consequences. Instead of things being clear for her, they were more confusing than ever.

Something in Edelgard’s head must have been torturing her over her admission, because the Emperor yanks open the door as if desperate for air. 

“Walk with me?” 

It’s more an order than a request, but Hilda obliges all the same.

*** * ***

The sun is setting over the imperial gardens of Enbarr, washing them in a soft orange light that brings a semblance of peace to Hilda’s mind as she walks beside Edelgard. Neither of them are very tall, so their pace is not very fast, and it lets her drink in the beautiful sights she’d enjoyed only from a barred window.

Most of the flowers are vividly colored carnations, the emperor’s favorite. It wouldn’t surprise her to catch Byleth tending to them, like they used to at the greenhouse five years ago. 

“My cabinet and I unanimously agreed to grant you a full pardon,” Edelgard says, and Hilda is taken a little aback by it. She’d sort of forgot that she’d opposed the victors of a continental war, and was, objectively speaking, in a _bad spot_. 

She’s also surprised at the ‘unanimous’ bit, but it makes sense: Caspar and Lysithea were only alive because of Hilda’s questionable decisions on the field, and the former Black Eagles were grateful, and this is how they showed it. Obviously, she’d spared others as well, but those two were definitely higher up in Edelgard’s chain of command.

“You may keep your life, but your title, as well as the Duchy of Goneril, will be no more. Instead, it will initially serve as a base of operations in our campaign against Shambhala.” Edelgard pauses, letting her digest this. When she says nothing, the emperor continues in a clipped tone, “Subsequently, it will be the negotiating grounds on peace talks with Almyra. After that, we will see.”

Hilda doesn’t know _what_ to say, to be honest she’s starting to feel a little numb, and all she can muster is, “Harsh, but fair. _Thanks_.”

They reach a gazebo off to the side that reminds her of the one at the Monastery, and the soldiers nearby click their heels to attention as they pass them. It’s a private little spot, obviously prepared beforehand, with a pot of hot tea ready as well as various cakes to satisfy the emperor’s well-known sweet tooth.

She imagined her and Lysithea spent any free time here.

“Let us talk over some tea,” Edelgard sweeps her hand over the setup, “There is much to discuss.” 

Her brain takes a couple of minutes to catch up to what Edelgard had said, but when she does, she grabs the other girl’s arm to center her attention before sitting down, “ _Wait_ – what’s… what did you _say_?” Hilda makes a face, “Sham- _whomst_?”

“Shambhala,” Edelgard repeats. She sits down across from her and folds her hands on the iron garden table. “Fódlan is united, but my work is not yet finished. There are still those who slither in the dark to deal with.”

Hilda stares back, blankly.

“Remember Abyss, its library?” Edelgard’s voice is lowered, “Hubert has spent years collecting certain… information. The library with its forbidden texts, as well as Yuri’s informants down there, proved crucial to piece the puzzle together, at long last.”

And that’s when Edelgard launches into a terrible, complicated story, about _those who slither in the dark_. Lord Arundel, her so-called uncle, unsettling as he always was, was apparently _one of them_ , and a very high ranking one at that.

It’s _a lot_ to wrap one’s head around, but some of the highlights include their dark mages doing crest blood experiments ( _Lysithea and Edelgard_!) and turning the bones of the children of the goddess into weapons. 

Hilda was _never_ , _ever_ touching Freikugel again. 

There’s more, but Hilda is getting overwhelmed faster than she can properly file away the information in her head, so she makes a _time out_ gesture with her hands in a T shape.

“W-Why are you telling me this?” Hilda gets the urgent wish to wipe her brain of everything she just learned, solely because it seemed too horrible to carry with you all the time. “What does Goneril have to _do_ with this?”

“You remember when, and why we met?” Edelgard’s eyes are aflame with a familiar old rage. “How my… _uncle_ had _‘business’_ to attend to, near the Hrym mountains? Shambhala is located nearby. That’s why we went. It’s _very_ close to Goneril, so that’s why he arranged our stay with your brother.”

The former Golden Deer doesn’t know where to even begin in the form of a response, so she doesn’t try. Edelgard shifts in place across from her, as if wanting to reassure her through a comforting touch, but she doesn’t dare reach out.

“That is… another reason it was strategic to let you live,” Edelgard continues, like she doesn’t want to use those words but must. “You, Holst and Jeritza know the area best, and will be key in pinpointing their exact location when the time comes.”

“But, _wait a second_. Your uncle?!” Hilda knows she shouldn’t raise her voice, lest the guards nearby think she’s attacking the emperor, but her ears are ringing at the revelation. “You’ve been _working with them_.”

“Yes, I have,” Edelgard hisses. “I had to make this unholy alliance to achieve my goals. I used them, and they used me. Our relations are done. I destroyed the beasts hiding in the light, and will do the same to the monsters slithering in the dark.”

Hilda’s head is swimming with information she never asked or wanted to know, and now she was being dragged into yet another war she didn’t _want_ to fight. 

She glares at the girl across from her, “So let me get this straight. You want me to help you find this Shambhala place, and then what? Fight for you?”

Edelgard’s mouth opens and closes, like in her mind it had been a given. She seems to mentally chide herself for assuming, and changes her answer, “ _No_. For the good of humanity, your help would be extremely valuable. But ultimately it’s your choice.”

 _For the good of humanity_. How were stakes like _that_ a _choice_?

She needs to occupy her hands, so she grabs the forgotten pot and pours herself a shaky cup of tea. The citric smell that hits her makes her nose wrinkle in distaste, _bergamot_. Edelgard’s favorite.

“You won’t make me?”

“I meant what I said earlier, about the pardon. You’re not a prisoner,” Edelgard says firmly. “All that’s left is some paperwork, but other than that…” lilac eyes flick up to meet hers, “You’re free to do as you like.”

“Hm. Really?”

“Really.”

She’s going to test her, Hilda decides. Edelgard’s reaction to her next words would be very telling, and that’s how Hilda will know her true character. Would her reaction befit that of a tyrannical monster Dimitri claimed her to be? Or the El that Hilda thinks she knows, the one that still lives in a corner of her heart?

“If that’s the case, I might leave Fódlan,” She blurts out. Hilda tries to sound as casual as she can, and starts pushing a cube of sugar around her saucer, just to focus her suddenly jittery energy on _something_. 

The previous topic still hangs heavy between them, and no amount of nasty bergamot seems able to wash it down entirely, but she must try. Edelgard, too, seems to be getting antsy, as she grabs one of the lemon cakes and breaks it down in front of her without actually eating it.

“Where would you go?” Edelgard’s tone is textbook neutral, her expression perfectly schooled. She’s holding her breath, feigning an interest in the crumbly but sweet mess in front of her.

Hilda shrugs and delivers her test, “Almyra, maybe?”

The emperor’s eyes widen slightly, and there’s a tightness to her jaw. Hilda watches her with rapt attention. Would something ugly and damning be revealed?

Instead of becoming furious, or immediately asserting her power over her, after a few seconds, Edelgard releases a small breath and inclines her head in assent.

“Send Claude my best,” is what she says. The small smile Edelgard offers is only short of heartbreaking, and for a second Hilda wishes she were angry instead, because it would be a thousand times easier to stomach than this soft acceptance.

For her to be so gracious, even after Hilda had done nothing but pick Claude over and over, for years and years, was everything.

You don’t try to control someone you love, or force them to stay when they want to leave. 

You let them go, even if it tears you apart.

Warmth floods her chest, and she impulsively reaches out across the table to grab a gloved hand, warm and familiar in hers.

Edelgard seems surprised, but lets it happen. Color rises to her cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Hilda says, and means it. “I can’t believe the assholes pulling the strings all across Fódlan live so close to home. We’ll get them for everything they’ve done.”

The emperor looks a little stunned at her receptiveness, and merely says, “Thank you for your support.”

The shift in the mood is obvious, if not palpable. Discussing TWSITD seemed like cakewalk compared to breaching the subject that had weighed at the back of her mind for half a decade.

She’s about to pull her hand back when Edelgard places her free one atop hers, gingerly, as if asking permission. When Hilda doesn’t withdraw it, Edelgard is the first one to brave the waters, “Listen, Hilda… the ball is in your court, so to speak.”

A dangerous, unbridled hope creeps into lavender eyes.

She panics a little. Yes, she’d bridged the gap by offering her hand, but given the situation, the first move could only have been hers all along. Edelgard, however, is the one taking the plunge. 

Against what she really wants to say, she decides to play dumb, tilting her head, “What do you mean?”

“I-I think my feelings on the matter are clear,” Edelgard’s blush spreads across the bridge of her nose, and she seems kind of mortified to be putting herself out in the open like this.

“No, no, it’s not very clear to me?” Hilda tries to suppress a smile, her old playful streak crawling out from the depths of her repressed feelings.

“I just, I’ve been thinking… What I’m saying, that is… I would not be opposed to–” Edelgard stops her fumbling abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Are you teasing me?!”

Hilda places her free hand over her chest, expression as serious as she can muster. “ _Me_? Edelgard, I would _never_.” 

The emperor scowls and lets her hand go, only to shove lemon cake inside her mouth instead, probably with the objective to avoid talking entirely. It’s a tactic she’s familiar with, as Lysithea had often employed it. Hilda tries to pretend not to be charmed by it, and finally resolves to take this seriously.

“Okay, okay… but, before I say anything… can I just ask you something?” Hilda bites her lip to stop herself from making an out of place joke, and after the urge is gone, tries for sincerity. “I know I’m… _a lot_. So, why ...? After all this time…?”

Edelgard ducks her head to hide the flush in her cheeks. For a second, she doesn’t think the Emperor is going to bother with an answer, but the candor in her eventual reply surprises her. “Recent partners treated me like I was made of glass, or were just… downright intimidated by me, but never _you_.

“You always treated me like everyone else, like a _normal_ person, which was something I didn’t realize I needed. Those closest to me had always held me in a pedestal, almost in reverie, and it fucked with my head a little.”

Hilda interjects only to add, “You can say _Hubert_ , it’s okay.”

“–you didn’t care that I was the imperial princess, in a good sense. I know we clashed a lot, but never in an… unsafe way, there was always respect. When you _looked_ at me, I–” Edelgard finally stops herself, either because she was out of breath or becoming painfully aware of just how much of her soul she was bearing to someone she’d perhaps irreparably damaged in pursuit of her objectives half a decade ago.

Hilda leans back on her chair, as Edelgard’s confession sends a skitter of heartbeats through her veins. They flurry from her chest and warm all over, and it feels like she’s eighteen years old again. 

She’s reminded that, last time, things ended not because the attraction was gone or because they felt differently, but because their paths ended up not being compatible. But now, against all odds and not in the most ideal of situations, fate had brought them together again, for better or for worse.

Things suddenly weren’t so confusing anymore.

“I… look, I don’t completely _hate_ the idea, like… you’re still very hot,” Hilda says vaguely, and from Edelgard’s expression she gathers that not very many people called the Emperor of Fódlan _hot_ to her face. 

It was easy to deflect by focusing on her physical appearance, as it really wasn’t even an issue or honestly very relevant. But it’s a good clutch to use, to deliver a superficial compliment, before delving into the fundamentals. It bought her some time while she pieced together what she really wanted to say.

Hilda continues, “ _But_! Regarding the real important stuff… I think you’ve proven time and time again you’re not this bloodthirsty monster some claim you to be…” now that she’s healed enough that it doesn’t hurt to gesture around anymore, she uses both hands to imitate weighing scales, “On the other hand, you still were kind of a huge asshole.”

Edelgard blinks, “I strive not to be… but when you’re the Emperor, well–”

“I get that. I do.” Hilda sighs, her eyes shifting away to the sprawling garden when she can’t stand that lilac gaze anymore. “I think… we’re different people. I’m guessing we want different things. I still need to adapt to this new system of yours, where Crests, something that was kind of a big part of my identity, don’t matter anymore.”

Then again, Crests were meaningless in Almyra, too. Whatever world she decided to live in, she would have to pull herself up by her bootstraps and cut her own path as best she could. 

Holst had been _so proud_ during the war phase, when life forced her to step up and be responsible for once in her life. Hilda had struggled, at first, but in the end, when all was said and done, she realized she was glad to make an effort for those she loved.

“What _do_ you want?” Edelgard asks, as Hilda dares to meet her eyes once more. There’s an intensity behind them she’s familiar with. 

It had been a while since someone had asked her that.

One of her childhood fantasies and favorite hobby worms its way to the front of her thoughts, and she hesitates before voicing it. “I don’t know? Maybe… I’d love to open an artisan academy. There aren’t any in Fódlan, you know.”

All her life, her prospects as a second-born as well as her reality of being an only daughter of a Duke had been pretty much set in stone: she would have to marry, become someone’s trophy wife and maybe manage some of their estate, but nothing more. She’d been perfectly fine with the arrangement, at times even glad for it, but the idea of aspiring for _more_ both thrills and scares her.

Hilda had not realized it until this moment, but maybe the Emperor’s vision wasn’t so damn crazy after all. With Crests out of the equation, suddenly her horizons did not seem so limited, and anything was possible.

“That can be arranged.” Edelgard smiles, “An academy like that could attract talented craftsmen to produce high-quality trade goods.”

Although every single word had been in a completely positive light, Hilda could not help but feel suspicion crawl across her skin. “Uh, and you’d support this… why? You and I aren’t exactly in the best of terms right now...”

“If I surrounded myself with people that only ever agreed with me, I would be glaringly alone.” Edelgard pours herself some tea that must’ve been pretty cold by now. She takes a long sip before adding, “If this is a passion of yours, I’m happy to back it, regardless of your personal feelings towards me.”

The younger girl’s features soften as she adds, “It _is_ possible for you to thrive in the world I’m hoping for, Hilda. Running a school is a fantastic place to start!”

Countless times, Hilda had envisioned this conversation going… differently, if not worse. Much worse. But Edelgard wasn’t here to dwell on the past, her sole focus seemed to be on the future and what it could be; on what was _next_. 

Hilda feels a little numb upon realizing _why_. 

Lysithea had hinted at it on occasion, but _time_ was a luxury for people who had two crests, given how taxing they were on the body. Their lifespans weren’t long. Hanneman and Linhardt were supposedly working on a cure of some sort, but presently, both girls seemed to live each day like it was their last.

“Edelgard…” Hilda says, as she thinks _fuck it_ , “We can’t just pick up from where we left off. You’re going to have to court me. Woo me. There’s a lot of shit to work through, and even then, I can’t promise that things will work out.”

It was the best compromise she could come up with. Hilda liked to take her time, but Edelgard seemed to be in a rush, so this is the best she could do. 

“ _And_ we need to deal with these slithering people first,” Hilda tacks on. “If we survive that, who knows? Maybe we find our way back, maybe we don’t… but we can _try_.”

Hilda remembered a time when she wasn’t willing to even _try_ , not for anyone or anything. It was quite impressive how her outlook had changed since.

The corner of Edelgard’s lips twitches in amusement, “You want me to court you?”

“Well, _yeah_. If we do this again, we do it right.” Hilda lets one of her evil smirks cross her face, deciding she felt comfortable enough to torment the Emperor at least _a little_ , “Humping my leg in Abyss wasn’t your finest work, you know.”

The effect of her words is immediate and Edelgard’s face flushes bright red, “T-That’s _not_ how I remember it–”

“I hope your wooing technique has improved since,” Hilda says, and she gets a rush from making the emperor squirm in her seat. It was a bold thing to do, but she’d danced this dance before.

“And what about _yours_?” Edelgard swallows down her embarrassment with a curl of her lip, “If I recall, _your_ technique involved antagonizing me at every opportunity.”

“Uh, and it worked! _Twice_!” Hilda considers gently bullying her further, but decides not to tempt her luck, so she lets her off the hook. “ _Anyway_ s. Like I said– this whole thing hinges on the big question of ‘ _what if this works_ ’, so don’t expect too much from me, okay?”

Lavender eyes sparkle a little despite Hilda’s very serious warning, “The whole world is built on those two words.”

 _What if_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +SO! went for a nice OPEN ending... it's Edelgard Month, i couldn't bring myself to end it another way. 
> 
> \+ i watched the entirety of she ra in a couple of days, so THAT wonderful last season may have influenced my writing lolol
> 
> +also i Had To do the critique to CF's decision regarding Hilda's death... AS IF holst goneril would help them at all if they killed his little sister smh?? he'd tell almyra to burn this shit to the groundddd
> 
> +honestly i dont think they would really work in canon, but that's what fic is for right? i did say this was Very self-indulgent from the start, and i hope all seven Hildagard stans out there found some joy in this little piece, i did pour a lot of love into this.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!


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